


The Lams Pamphlet

by PurpleLoosestrife



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Hamilton References, Lams - Freeform, M/M, The Reynolds Pamphlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2019-10-19 23:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17611529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleLoosestrife/pseuds/PurpleLoosestrife
Summary: Occurring in an alternate historical universe where John Laurens survives the Revolution and becomes a senator, Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens struggle to conceal their love for each other. No one must know. Homosexuality is condemned by society and the law equally, and the state is quick to punish those who dare oppose them. Besides, they are both married men; one of them happily married, the other less so.One night, things spiral out of control and suddenly, they risk losing everything: their reputation, their wives, and their lives.





	1. You're Too Kind, Sir

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to be as historically accurate as possible, but this is a work of fiction.  
> If you like this, please leave a kudos and a comment. Constructive criticism is welcome.  
> Enjoy!

  
   

   The house felt too empty. As Alex dipped his weathered quill in the pot of ink, he could hear the steady tick of the clock as it marked the countless hours he had sat at his desk, writing his proposal. It was slightly unnerving, as the sound of his rambunctious children would have usually filled the silence. He missed them, and most of all, he missed his wife Eliza and her steady presence. He stared ruefully at his papers, regretting his decision to stay. He could almost imagine her standing over him with a faint smile on her face.

_    Working again, Alex? Come back to bed _ , she would say.

_    Just a minute, my love, _ he would reply, and continue working as if she had not been there.

   Ever since Eliza and their children left to go upstate, he was nowhere closer to convincing the Democratic-Republicans of doing  _ anything _ . It seemed that their sole goal was to make sure nothing he proposed passed the Senate. No one hated him more than Thomas Jefferson, his political rival. He felt increasingly isolated at his new hostile work environment, and John Laurens, his dearest friend and-

   No.

   Just his friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

   John, his dearest friend, was the only person keeping him sane there. If John had decided not to run, he most likely would have resigned. 

   Perhaps Eliza was right; he should have taken a break.  
  
  Suddenly, he heard a knock at the door. He looked up. He had hardly noticed that hours had passed while writing, and it was well after ten o’clock now. Alex got up and opened the door. In front of him stood a lovely young woman, with rich brown eyes and wavy blond hair which cascaded down her shoulders. Strangely, she wore a black pelisse over her scarlet red dress even though it was fairly warm outside.  
 “Good evening,” he said. “To what do I owe you the pleasure of?”  
 “I, uh….I just wanted...um...” she stammered, not meeting him in the eye. “It’s a long story. Do you mind if I come in?”  
“ Sure," Alex agreed, stepping back to let her in. He held out his hand, offering to take her pelisse. She hesitated before slowly removing it, revealing multiple bruises covering her arms. As he led the woman to his sitting room, he had thousands of questions just waiting to burst from his mouth. Most importantly, who was she, and what did she want with him?  
  Once they were seated with a cup of tea in their hands, the lady began talking.  
 “I am so sorry for bothering you at home, especially at this time,” she apologized. “My name is Maria Reynolds. Ever since I married my husband James Reynolds eight years ago, he has been abusing me.” She gestured to her bruises. “Two days ago, he left me alone to fend for myself. I recently moved here to New York, and I don’t know anyone. I heard from someone that you live around this area, and I was hoping you would let me stay here for a while. I just don’t know where to go or what to do….” She pulled out her handkerchief and started wiped away the tears that had escaped her eyes.  
Alex felt anger and pity well up inside him. If he ever had the chance to meet James Reynolds, he knew he would challenge him to a duel for slighting her honour in a heartbeat. For now, he felt that the least he could do was offer her a place to stay. After reassuring her and telling her that everything would be alright, he guided her to his guest bedroom, where his sister-in-law Angelica had occupied a week ago.  
 “I will send you a doctor tomorrow,” he promised. “In the meantime, make yourself at home, and don’t hesitate to stay as long as you need.”  
 “You’re too kind, sir,” he responded. “Thank you.”  
 “You’re welcome,” he responded, holding her hand and bending down to kiss it. He moved to withdraw his hand, but she grabbed it back.  
 “Please sir, I know I’m being bold in asking you of this, but…” she trailed off, slowly rubbing his hand with her warm fingers. “I would appreciate it if you slept with me tonight. As a repayment for your kindness”

   "I am afraid I cannot,” he replied firmly. “It would be inappropriate to do so, considering that we are both married.”

   “No one needs to know,” she countered, stepping closer to him. Up close, he could smell her vanilla and jasmine perfume. If he was a moth, the perfume would be a flame, luring him into his doom. He could not help but notice she was undeniably beautiful, and it was a shame a nasty man like James was married to her. He thought about how easy it would be to give in and say yes. Sensing his hesitation, Maria cupped her hand over his cheek and leaned in for a kiss.  
    _Resist_ , one voice whispered. _Say no to this._  
    _No one needs to know_ , another whispered louder. _It’ll be fine._  
   He thought of what would happen if he was caught in the act, picturing Angelica’s rage and Eliza’s pain. _Is this what you want?_  
   Maria’s lips grazed his. Reluctantly, he let her kiss him on the lips, but he didn’t move his lips to reciprocate the action.

_ Imagine she is someone you actually love, _ his brain whispered.  _ At least this will make the experience better. _

When he pulled back, Maria wasn’t standing in front of him. Instead, a man with blond hair and sparkling blue eyes stood there. John. John leaned in to kiss him, and this time, he returned his affections. When he pulled away, he saw Maria again.  
 “No!” he cried, horrified at his actions.  
 “What’s wrong, sir?” Maria asked, looking worried.  
 “Everything,” he said, his voice cracking. “Good night.”  
   As he went to sleep, he couldn’t figure out which sin was mostly responsible for the burning sense of shame he felt: allowing Maria to kiss him or kissing Maria under the pretense that she was John.

* * *

  
 “No way!” John interjected. “She really did that?”  
 “You have to stop interrupting me,” Alex chided. “And yes, she did.”  
   The two men were in a bar after a long day of work. Although they worked in the same building, with John as the senator of South Carolina and Alex as the Secretary of the Treasury, they never seemed to have time to get together to relax and talk outside a professional setting due to their busy work schedules. Alex inwardly admitted that it was nice to take a break, but he couldn’t seem to silence the voice in his head that told him to get back to work. He had told John what had happened last night. Well, everything but the last part where he...

  He couldn't bring himself to say it, even in his head.

“And you kissed her back?”

“Not really.” He felt heat creep into his cheeks, and he struggled to keep in down.

John gave him a rather serious look. “Not really?”

“John, I promise, I love no one but Eliza,” he said with as much sincerity he could muster. He placed his hand on top of John’s in what he hoped was a reassuring way, but as soon as their skin made contact, he realized he made a huge faux pas. Now he was hyper-aware of John’s hand, from the smoothness yet firmness of his hand.

_ Stop it _ , his brain scolded. He retracted his hand after leaving it on for perhaps a second too long to be considered friendly.

“Anyhow, this whole incident’s crazy,” John commented, taking a gulp of whiskey. “So what happens now?”  
 “I do not know,” Alex responded. “Right now, she has been living at my place for about three days. She has not suggested sleeping with me again, which is good. The only problem is that I don’t know what to do when James comes home. Can I really send her home knowing that she’ll probably be abused by him? I do not have the power to interfere with her marriage, as terrible as it is.”

   “Don’t you find it strange that she knows where you live?” he mused. Alex paused, mulling over this observation. Indeed, now that he thought of it, it was strange.

   “Does Eliza know?” John asked. “Not yet,” he answered. “I have not gotten around to telling her. Additionally, I do not know how long she will stay, or what she will plan to do when James returns.”

   “Or what will happen if he doesn’t,” John added. “You can’t rule out that possibility.”

   “True,” he agreed. Changing the subject, he asked, “So how is your relationship between you and Martha?”  
   His mood turned somber. “She refuses to leave London. Instead, she wants me to move across the ocean to her. You know I can’t do that,” he said, signaling the bartender to refill his glass. “I love my job and America too much.”  
 “What does your father want you to do?” he questioned.  
 “He thinks I should go. After all, it’s my fault I impregnated her. I just think it’s an excuse to get rid of me so I can’t quote-unquote, ‘implement those fucking abolition laws’.”  
   John downed his glass in one gulp, but before he could order another one, Alex slapped his hand down.  
 “That’s enough,” he ordered. “You’ve already had three glasses.”  
 “You’re no fun,” he grumbled, but he got up to leave anyway.

* * *

 

  
   A shower of rain greeted them once they left the bar. He heard Alex curse under his breath. His house was too far to walk there without being thoroughly drenched, yet too close to call for a coach, and staying in a bar full of drunk men wasn’t a pleasant alternative.  
   Alex looked at him with a sly grin and yelled, “Race you to my house!”  
   Startled, he watched as he ran ahead before chasing after him. He wasn’t used to him being spontaneous, especially since he became a respectable politician who maintained his formality even when drinking with friends. Despite it being years since they fought in the Revolution, Alex maintained his superb athleticism. It took John a while before he caught up with Alex.

   “How are you so fast?” John huffed, struggling to run and talk simultaneously.

   “I just am,” Alex replied with ease.

   They reached his house in a matter of minutes, ignoring the strange looks they received from others. Although Alex did beat John to the door by a split second, he graciously called it a tie. John didn’t care. Running with Alex at his side made him feel youthful again, reminding him of the time he was carefree.

   “Come inside,” Alex said. “ It’s not like you’re in a hurry to go.” That was true. He lived alone in a small house three blocks away, and he often missed having company around. He bought the house in hopes of convincing Martha that he was serious about staying in America and becoming a proper family man, but now, he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Heck, he didn’t even know what to do with his life other than continue his job as Senator of South Carolina.  
   Leaving their sopping wet shoes and coats in the front entrance, Alex and John went to the master bedroom. Alex threw him some night clothes before undressing himself, turning his back to John. He too undressed and slipped into the night clothes before turning around and catching Alex staring at him. Alex did not seem embarrassed that he was caught staring at him. In fact, he seemed to almost challenge him with his gaze that read, You want to call me out for staring at you? Go ahead.  
 “So if Maria is occupying the guest bedroom, shall I sleep in one of the children’s?” John questioned.  
 “You could share my bed,” he suggested.  
   John laughed, but upon the realization that he was serious, his face turned red.  
 “W-Wouldn’t that be inappropriate?” he stammered.  
 “No, if we’re just two close friends sharing a bed,” Alex replied.  
 “Uh..I.. okay,” he agreed, mentally kicking himself for being a tongue-tied fool.  
   He slid into bed, leaving a decent amount of space between them. John felt Alex move closer, closing the gap. He stiffened. _No one is watching_ , he reminded himself, but he still couldn’t sleep.  
   He turned his back to Alex, staring at the bedroom door that allowed a cool breeze in. After a moment, he turning back to face him. He lay there, studying every aspect of Alex’s face, from his sharp nose to his defined chin. He reached out to touch his face, but then withdrew his hand. God, if anyone knew about what he truly thought of Alex…..

   Everything would be easier if he could bury his desire for him.

  
 “I know that you are awake,” Alex mumbled, opening his brilliant azure eyes.  
 “I couldn’t sleep,” John admitted.  
 “Is something wrong?” Alex asked, his eyebrows scrunching up with worry. He reached out his hand to touch him. 

 “Don’t touch me!” he snapped. Alex lowered his hand, hurt flashing across his face. 

 “What is wrong?” he repeated.

  “Nothing!” he yelled, moving away from him. 

 “That is a lie,” Alex accused 

 “Well maybe it is!” he retorted. “And what are you going to do about it?”

   Silence. John feared that he crossed the line, but he stubbornly refused to make the first move to apologize. Still, he hoped he hadn’t ruined their friendship.

   After a moment in which John dealt with internal conflict, a raging war inside his brain, Alex started speaking. 

 “Ever since the day we met as Washington’s aide-de-camp, I have been thinking of you as more than a friend,” Alex said, looking at the ceiling. John looked at him with surprise. “At first, I thought it was just an infatuation, but then it realized that it was love. I know I shouldn’t be having these feelings about you, but I do and I cannot stop it.” He looked at John. “You do too right? Is that why you keep pulling away from me when I get close to you or are you disgusted by my affections?” 

Silence settled in the room.

_ Come on _ , his brain urged.  _ Say it already. _

But it felt that a jump across a chasm with no point of return. Too risky, too dangerous, too much.

But he loved Alex.

And he was worth the jump.

 “Yes, I do have these feelings for you,” he acknowledged with a deep breath. And just like that, an invisible weight was lifted off his chest.

    “For real?” Alex breathed. “I thought I was the only one who felt this way.”

 “I love you, Alex,” John confessed. “I really do.”  
 “My dearest Laurens,” Alex said softly. “It might be in my power, by actions rather than words, to convince you that I love you.”  
 “You just quoted your own letter,” John told him with a smile.  
 “I meant every word I said then,” Alex responded. “And I still do now.”  
   Alex moved into a kneeling position, straddling John’s legs with his own, and John sat up. John held Alex’s face in his hands as he kissed him tenderly. They kissed slowly and softly, savouring every movement. Knowing that their love was forbidden made John cherish this moment even more. After minutes of kissing, John moved his hands to unbutton his shirt while staring at his handsome face, which was illuminated by candlelight. He paused. He hadn’t remembered Alex bringing a candle, and neither had he.  
John felt his hands go cold as he turning his head to confirm his worst fear.  
   At the doorway, which they foolishly had left ajar, stood Maria Reynolds. She had the decency to look embarrassed, but it was too late. The damage had been done.  
   Alex followed his gaze. His face turned pale. Getting off the bed, he grabbed his purse and shoved it in her hands.  
 “Take it,” he ordered. “Never speak of the incident to anyone.” She nodded. “Now go.”  
They both stared after her retreating figure before looking at each other.  
 "I should go," John said quietly.  
 "Stay,” Alex insisted. “ We can work this out together.” 

   John swung his legs off the bed and grabbed his clothes. "We shouldn't have done this," he muttered. "What the hell were we thinking?" He headed for the door, but Alex blocked him. 

   "John, please stay. We can-"  

   "Let me go!" he screamed. Alex looked at him with a pained expression but refused to budge. In a desperate attempt, he shoved Alex out of the way. Alex stumbled, which allowed his time to run down the stairs, grab his coat and shoes, and leave his house. Luckily, it was still raining, so his tears were masked by raindrops. He barely traveled a block he collapsed under a sheltered alley and wept. At that moment, he felt that death would be better than living. 

He could already feel the flames of hell licking his heels.

 

* * *

 

   maria stepped inside her house silently, looking around for any signs of her husband. sure enough, he was in the sitting room, smoking from his pipe. she contemplated what to do next. would it be safer to greet him or sneak into their bedroom, pretending to be asleep? unfortunately, she didn't have to make that decision because he just had to look up at that moment. great.    "so did you seduce hamilton?" james asked gruffly.

   “no,” she admitted quietly.

   he got up and walked towards her, his face filled with rage. he threw her against the cold ground and began kicking her. she curled up in a ball, shielding her face with her arms. she knew that fighting back would be useless. james made sure to give her everlasting scars for that one time she did. after a minute or two of abuse, she sensed him stepping back as if he got bored of kicking her.

   “get up, you little slut,” james spat. she obeyed him, wincing at the bruises that were forming and wiping away her tears. he stepped so close to her that she could smell his breath. to her dismay, he could only smell smoke, meaning that he had beaten her up sober the time.

  “you had one fucking job,” he snarled. he looked around. “where is susan? perhaps beating her up for your mistakes will fucking teach you a lesson to do better next time.”

  “please,” she begged, getting down on her knees and clinging on to his arms. “beat me a thousand times if you must, but please don’t hurt our daughter.” remembering what happened at hamilton’s house, she had an idea. she knew that they would hate her forever if they found out, but it would be the only way susan would be spared from harm. “i learned something from hamilton’s house,” she said. “it involves him, senator john laurens and a forbidden affair.”

   he narrowed his eyes. “go on.”

* * *

 

_Alex felt an arm wrap securely around his body from behind him and a warm body press against his back. He sensed warm, languid breaths blow on his neck. He turned around, expecting to see John but-_

   He woke up, letting out a sigh of frustration.

   It had been days since he last saw John and Maria, and he was getting increasingly concerned and paranoid. He could not properly concentrate at debates, allowing Jefferson to get in a few jabs and insults. According to Adams, the reason John had not shown up to work was that he called in sick. Alex tried to visit his house every day, but every day he showed up, it seemed devoid of life.  
Unable to sleep, Alex got up and reread the last letter Eliza had sent him. He had not yet drafted a response. Every time he picked up a quill, he felt shame rise in him, knowing that he would have to hide his affair from her.  
   Hearing someone knock on his door, he went to open it. In front of him stood a man he had never seen before.  
   “Hamilton,” he addressed him curtly. “You don’t know me, but it doesn’t matter. We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like it, please leave a kudos. Also, leave a comment too! What did you like about my story? Dislike? Do you have a favourite part? I’m open to constructive feedback, and that will be greatly appreciated, as I am an author that always tries my best to improve.  
> If you like it, share it with a friend! An enemy! A stranger!  
> Although my updating schedule is irregular, I try to do my best to update as soon as possible, so stick around!
> 
> Your question of the day is: Do you think Maria was justified in telling James about Alex's affair with John? Why or why not? Go forth and debate it out in the comment section. I'd love to hear your opinion!


	2. That Would Be Enough

   “ _Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf_ ,” Alex sang, playing a pattern of notes on the piano simultaneously.

   “ _Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf_ ,” his son, John Church repeated.

   “Good job,” Alex praised him warmly.

   “Teach me more!” he begged, his eyes shining with excitement.

   “That’s it for today,” Alex said smiling. “Now run along.”

   John hugged him before running out to play with his other siblings.

   “If he keeps learning at his pace, he’ll be even better than little Angelica at the piano,” Eliza commented, cradling William, their newborn son, in her arms as she stepped in the room to join him.

   “I try my best to teach them all I know,” he replied, kissing her lightly on her cheek.

   “Come outside with us. We have been blessed with nice weather today. Let’s enjoy it while we can.”

   “Alright,” Alex agreed. Eliza placed William in the cradle and together, they stepped outside. They sat on an ancient stone bench that was placed under the shade of a maple tree. From their angle, they could spot the other children playing among the hyacinths and roses they grew in their garden, emitting joyful laughter from time to time.

   “Were the children well-behaved while on vacation?” Alex asked.

   “Of course! My father was impressed by their manners, and they had fun while they were at my father’s house. Philip spent most of the break focusing on his studies. Doesn’t that remind you of a certain someone?”

   “Well, he does learn from the best. How about the others?”

   “Angelica impressed everyone with a piece by Mozart, and Alex Jr. is taking an interest in poetry and has been reading from my father’s collection. James Alex and John Church occasionally squabble about trivial matters, but they behaved well nonetheless.”

   “That’s good,” Alex commented. “And how is the rest of your family?”

   “My father is doing fine, and he sends his regards. So is Peggy, but she demands that you come with us next summer or else she will burn all your quills and drag you there herself. Angelica, who plans to stay at my father’s place until she returns to London in nine months, refuses to talk to you until you reply to the letter she sent you two weeks ago.

   “Oh…. I must have forgotten about that,” Alex said guilty, thinking of the letter that was probably sitting under a stack of papers somewhere on his desk.

   “She just worries that you’re overworking yourself and you’re denying yourself a chance to see your children grow up,” she explained sympathetically.

   “She is right,” Alex admitted. “I honestly do not think I have been a good father and husband recently. I hope that you are not mad at me for not coming with you and the children”

   “I could never be mad at you,” Eliza smiled. “I know that your work is important to you, but if you could try to devote some more time to your family, that would be enough.”

   “I will try, my dear,” Alex replied, intertwining his fingers with Eliza’s hand. At that moment, he thought of how lucky he was to have a faithful and loving wife. With a pang of shame, he thought about what would happen if she found out about his night with John. She deserves a better husband, a voice in his head whispered. _She does not deserve to be with a lying, cheating whore like you._ Suddenly, he felt the need to put some distance between him and Eliza. _The less she cares about you, the less she will get hurt._

   “Do you mind if you watch the children? I have to run a quick errand.”

   “Of course not,” she answered. “Go ahead.”

   He smiled fondly at her and got up. He went back inside his house and grabbed his purse, and with a purposeful stride, he made his way to the Reynolds’ house. Although he knew he was imagining it, he felt like everyone who passed him on the street was glaring at him, as if they knew what happened on that fateful night, and were thoroughly disgusted by his actions. Their silent accusations seemed to stick to him, making him feel hot and uncomfortable.

   At last, he reached his destination. He knocked on the door, and a moment later, Maria opened it.

   “Good afternoon Mr. Hamilton,” she greeted him, not looking at him directly in the eyes.

   “Good afternoon to you too, Mrs. Reynolds,” he responded, noticing that the newly formed bruises on her face. Even though she was partially responsible for his current situation, he could not help but feel pity for her.

   Maria led him to their sitting room, where James was already seated with a glass of rum in his hand. As she left, he took a seat on a threadbare chair across from him. James made no motion to offer him a drink or start the conversation.

   “Good afternoon Mr. Reynolds.”

   “You too, bud.”

   “What did you just call me?” Alex demanded, his face turning red.

   “Bud. You know, another name for a friend. Of course, you wouldn’t know. It’s not like you have any,” he smirked, taking a sip of rum.

Alex bit his tongue to refrain from insulting him. _That goddamn smirking rascal._ He took out thirty dollars and tossed it on the wooden table that lay in between them.

      James snatched the money and meticulously counted the bills.

   “All right,”  he said, stuffing the bills into his pocket. “You can-”

   “How long do I have to pay you for?” Alex interrupted.

   “For however long you want me to keep my mouth shut about you and Laurens. You know the rules. If you don’t pay me the amount I request every two weeks, I’ll tell everyone-”

   “And if I were to continue my affair with Laurens, would you still remain silent?”

   “As long as I get paid,” he responded indifferently. He pointed to the door. “You ask too many questions. Now go.”

* * *

 

   Alex wandered around the city. He could not make himself go back home, at least not yet. He needed time to collect his thoughts and figure out what to do from here. So far, bribing James to keep his filthy mouth shut was the best option. Failing to do so could cost him his political career, and possibly his life.

   He was so caught up in his thoughts that he accidentally ran into someone carrying a basket full of fabric, knocking it out of his hands.

   “I am so sorry!” he apologized profusely. He piled the fabric in a bundle and placed it into the stranger’s basket. He took a good look at the stranger. He had a square jaw and a familiar pair of friendly sea-blue eyes that belonged to the one and only Hercules Mulligan.

   “Hercules!” he exclaimed. “It’s been so long since I last saw you! Hopefully, you still remember me, right?”

   “Of course I do,” Hercules replied. “How could I ever forget that loud, obnoxious-”

   “Hey, watch your mouth!” Alex joked, lightly shoving him.

   “Or what? You’ll write a pamphlet about me?” he quipped.

   “I could,” he threatened playfully.

   “Don’t you have other work to do?” 

   He sighed. “I suppose, but it can wait. We have a lot to catch up on. Tell me while we walk to your store. Here, let me carry this for you,” Alex offered, picking the basket up.

   “Uh… sure, I guess.”  

   Alex studied his face. Was it just him, or did he see hesitation flicker in his face? _You are being paranoid_ , he scolded himself. _Relax, you have nothing to worry about except James Reynolds._

* * *

 

   “How do I look?” Baron von Steuben asked, turning around to show John his new suit.

   “Great,” John said absentmindedly. He had decided to stay at Hercules’s house to hide from Alex, at least until he figured out what to do next with his life. He wasn’t ready to confront him and address what happened between them. He offered his services at Hercules’s tailoring business, giving him a temporary sense of purpose and a distraction from thinking about Alex.

   Baron checked his pocket watch, and his eyes widened with alarm. “Oh no! I’m late for my appointment! Time really does fly by.” He placed his money on Hercules’s desk. “Tell him to keep the change.” With a respectful bow, he made his way out the door, paused and squinted his eyes.

   “Actually, I will tell him myself. I see him and Mr. Hamilton walking towards us from the distance,” he stated.

   John’s heart stopped beating for a second.

   Baron’s rambling continued. “It has been a long time since I last laid my eyes on Mr. Hamilton. He was such a well-spoken young gentleman! I have always thought that he was from a family of Scottish aristocrats, but I have heard rumours that he was from the West Indies. I ever heard stories that he was born out of the wedlock! That boy does not open up about his past at all. I-”

   “Baron,” John interrupted. “Don’t you have an appointment to go to?”

   Baron frowned at his interruption but concluded, “Well, you are right. Have a good weekend, Mr. Laurens.”

   The moment he left, John dove into Hercules’s supply closet. After securely wedging himself in between the boxes of buttons and threads, he closed the door behind him, leaving a sliver open so he could observe from a distance. He heard the tingling of the bell as Hercules entered, with Alex following him in with a basket of fabric, looking visibly stressed. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his glasses lenses were smudged something dark, presumably ink. He saw Hercules glance at the stool where he usually sat. His eyes then turned to the closet, where they lingered before turning his attention back to Alex.

   “So you fought with Baron in the Revolution?” Hercules questioned.

   “Yes, he was a great leader and fighter. I had the pleasure of working with him, as he served as Washington’s chief of staff,” he answered.

   “I see,” he said, placing Baron’s money in his purse. “Anyway, do me a favour and put the basket in the closet.”

   “Sure,” Alex agreed. With every step he took that brought him closer to the closet, his heart began to beat faster as if it were a war drum, rallying soldiers to fight. He frantically looked around. There was nowhere to hide within the closet.

   Harsh light came streaming when Alex opened the door. Their eyes met, and John felt heat flush into his cheeks. He stood there emotionless, not saying anything.

   “Hey,” John said, searching for words to say. Unlike Alex, he didn’t have the ability to say the right phrases at the right time.

   Alex placed the basket on top of the boxes and left the store silently.

   Hercules glanced at John, who was still sitting in the closet. “What the heck were you doing in there? Were you hiding from Hammy?” he teased in a sing-song voice.

   John ignored Hercules and ran after Alex, catching up to him just as he was about to cross the street.

   “Alex! Hear me out,” he pleaded.

   “ Why? Why should I let you back into my life when all you do is run away?” Alex demanded. John opened his mouth, ready to defend himself, but Alex continued. “Do you know how much it hurts?”

   John paused, letting the guilt sink in. He hadn’t meant to hurt him, but that was all he seemed to be good at doing these days.

   “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I really am. I know that my apologies won’t wipe away the pain I caused you, and for that, I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I’m just not good for you.”

   “How so?”

   John stared at him incredulously. “You just said it yourself! I only hurt you when all you do is try to make this relationship work! We’re not even supposed to be liking each other this way. Our love is a crime within itself. You also have Eliza and six children-”

   “Our love.”

   “What?”

   “You said ‘our love’” Alex repeated. “You want me as much as I want you.”

   “Perhaps more,” he admitted. “But our relationship will never work out.”

   “We can try,” Alex insisted, stepping forwards until their toes touched. John’s heart started to quicken again, but this time out of excitement, not fear.

   “Are you free this evening?”

   “Yes, why?”

   “I’ll see you then at your house.” With a smile, he left John standing in the middle of the busy sidewalks with a dumb grin plastered on his face.

* * *

 

   “I’m sorry, what?”

   Alex winced. Judging by his reaction, this was not going to end well. Alex and John were seated on antique chairs that were most likely given to John by his father, judging by the quality. A landscape painting made by Thomas Gainsborough, which he heard that his uncle had given to his as a gift, hung in John’s sitting room. After a few minutes of small talk and sharing a bottle of French wine, sent by Marquis de Lafayette, he brought up the subject they needed to discuss: James Reynolds.

   “Please tell me you’re joking,” John demanded.

   “I wish I was,” Alex replied.

   John let loose a string of cuss words. To his credit, he did not run or push Alex away this time. It was much easier pursuing a forbidden relationship knowing that John was trying to make it work too.

   “So what happens now?” John asked.

   “There is nothing I can do except pay him and pray he does not tell anyone."

   “I can help you pay,” John offered. “After all, it’s partly my fault and-”

   “It is fine. I do not-”

   “Too late.” John leaned over and shoved a handful of bills into Alex’s pocket and crossed his arms defiantly.

   “John-”

   “No.”

   “Really I-”

   “I’m trying to help!” John snapped. His eyes widened with guilt. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. Just...take the money.”

   “No, I should be sorry. I do have a hard time accepting money,” Alex confessed. He took a deep breath before continuing. “My father left me when I was ten, and my mother died of sickness when I was twelve. Other than my talents as a writer and clerk, I depended heavily on the support of the affluent families in Nevis to get out of there and move to New York.” He paused, trying to continue, but he could not seem to get his voice to work. He was not used to telling anyone about his childhood.

   Fortunately, John did not force him to continue. “It’s alright,” he said quietly, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “You don’t need to feel like you have to share everything with me.”

   “But I wanted to,” Alex replied. He truly did. He was not used to being vulnerable, but now that John knew a little more about his obscure past, he felt an invisible weight being lifted off his chest.

   “Since you shared your story, I feel like it’s only fair if I share one of mine,” John said. “I grew up in South Carolina with the weight of my father’s legacy placed on my shoulders. I obeyed my father in fear of his disappointment and held my tongue, even when I wanted to speak out against the things he did, like owning slaves. My mother was killed by an illness when I was young. I don’t remember much about her, but I wish I could. When I was in Switzerland, I wanted to study science and medicine, hoping to come up with a cure for diseases. If I couldn't stop my own mother from dying, at least I could try to save other mothers. However, my father made me study law, and here I am.” He gestured to his vicinity. “Alone in a house in New York as a politician and an abolitionist while my wife and daughter are all the way in London. My father must be _so_ proud.”

   “For what it's worth, I think that is something to be proud of. You chose to follow your dreams, even at the expense of your relationship with your father,” Alex commented.

   “Well…” John opened his mouth to argue against it, but admitted, “I guess you’re right.”

   “Of course I am,” Alex said lightly. “Accept the compliment, Laurens.”

   “Okay,” John agreed. “Also, are we in a relationship now? I mean, romantically.”

   “If you want it to be.”

   He gave him a shy smile. “Okay, then. You know, I’m glad I gave this relationship another shot.”

   Alex was glad he did too, but as he felt his relationship with John slowly and surely mending, he knew his relationship with Eliza was tearing apart at the seams.

* * *

 

   A week later, John and Alex met again at John’s house around the same time. John was glad he didn’t have any neighbours or else their rants about work would disturb them. This also allowed them to sit close together on the porch steps with their knees touching without the fear of being caught. Even though he saw Alex at work, he could only treat him as a close friend there, and for him, it was torture.

   “Adam’s Alien and Sedition Act is an absolute disaster!” Alex yelled.

   “I can’t believe the other Federalists wants to pass it,” John complained.

   “I know,” Alex scoffed. “I would rather kiss Jefferson than pass the bill.”

   “No way,” John said incredulously, raising his eyebrows.

   “How dare you assume I am lying!” Alex exclaimed, pretending to be morally offended and playfully shoving John.

   “You must be drunk,” he joked. “You would never say that.”

   “I am not drunk,” Alex insisted. “I can prove it.”

   He leaned in and pressed his soft lips against John’s. For a minute, time seemed to slow down as they kissed. When Alex pulled back, he was left wanting more.

   “You’re not drunk, but you certainly kiss like a drunkard,” John teased.

   “I suppose I do need some practice,” Alex replied, flirting back. “Could you help me with that?”

   “With pleasure,” John grinned.

* * *

 

_Six months later_

   John woke up with sunlight streaming in his face. He turned around and smiled softly when he saw Alex fast asleep in his bed, looking peaceful as the sun highlighted his ginger hair, making it seem golden. He remembered what happened the last night with clarity. 

_    “Stop it Alex,” he giggled as Alex kissed a sensitive spot on his neck. _

_    “Nope,” he replied, doubling his efforts. _

_    John pushed Alex away and swatted him playfully.  _

_    “Fine,” Alex sighed in mock defeat. He flopped back down on the bed. For a while, a comfortable silence sat languidly in the air. _

_    “I do not want to rush you into anything,” he said, looking at the ceiling. “But I am ready to, you know, take it to the next level.” _

_    “Sure.” John was surprised at how easy the words came out, but it was easy when he truly meant it. _

_    “Are you sure?” Alex looked at him anxiously. “We do not have to do it tonight. I do not want to pressure you into- _

_    John rolled over and gave him a bemused an exasperated smile. “Shut up and do it already, you idiot.” _

   It was a night of pure bliss.

 _Love._ To him, it used to be a foreign concept that only existed in songs and tales. As he got closer to Alex during the last six months, he was slowly beginning to understand. At times, it was    frustrating to hide their romantic relationships from their colleagues, knowing their lives would be easier if only the world were more accepting of homosexuality. But of course, Eliza was still in the picture. He felt ashamed that he was having a clandestine affair with Alex at her expense, but he couldn’t help his desire.

   However big or small his troubles were, they would melt away every Friday evening, knowing that he’ll soon be alone with Alex. And that was enough to satisfy him.

 

 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like it, please leave a kudos. Also, leave a comment too! What did you like about my story? Dislike? Do you have a favourite part? I’m open to constructive feedback, and that will be greatly appreciated, as I am an author that always tries my best to improve.  
> If you like it, share it with a friend! An enemy! A stranger!  
> Although my updating schedule is irregular, I try to do my best to update as soon as possible, so stick around!
> 
> Your question of the day is: Do you think Alex and John should continue their affair? Why or why not? Go forth and debate it out in the comment section. I'd love to hear your opinion!


	3. We Know

_Congress must..._

   Alex frowned, dissatisfied. He sounded too passive. He scratched out the words and wrote:

_It is necessary that Congress…_

   Someone knocked on his office door.

   “Come in!” he called without looking up from his work.

   He heard the smack of a newspaper hit his desk as his visitor threw it down. The headline of the _Aurora_ read in bold letters, “ALEXANDER HAMILTON PARTICIPATING IN IMPROPER SPECULATION”. He looked up and saw the tomato-red face of President John Adams.

   “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS? Mr. Hamilton, these-”

   “-are baseless accusations spread by the Democratic-Republicans.”

   “Baseless? Then tell me, who is James Reynolds?”

   A shock of fear blazed down his spine, but he forced himself to maintain a neutral expression. “Never heard of him.”  

   “Whether these accusations are real or fake, they still bring shame and dishonour to not only the Federalists but the whole government! I do not know what you have been up to these past few months-”

_Of course he wouldn’t; he’s been on a vacation for eight months._

    “-but whatever it is, it better not ruin the chances of the Federalists winning the next election! Do I make myself clear?”

   “Yes.”

   The president gave him a tight nod, then left the room. Alex put on his reading glasses and skimmed through the article. It had crafted a story about him mismanaging the government funds by turning to James Reynolds, a shady businessman, and asking him to invest it to increase the funds so he could pocket some of the profit while giving the rest to Mr. Reynolds. It had cited several documents from Mr. Reynolds, showing the large transaction of money in between the men as evidence. He was aware that the Democratic-Republicans often made up stories or twisted the actions of the Federalists to make it seem evil to take them down, but this time, it hit a little too close to home. How did the author know that he was connected to Mr. Reynolds? Unless…

   He did not want to believe his intuition, but he knew it was right. Mr. Reynolds or Maria must have told someone. The bribe money gone into making sure their secret remained hidden was practically wasted.

   “Good morning, Mr. Hamilton.”

   A man’s voice snapped him to reality as he approached him.

   “Good morning to you too…uhm.. sir.” He struggled to remember the man’s name. He had seen him somewhere, that was for sure.

   “My colleagues and I would like to request a meeting with you.”

   “Your colleagues?”

   “Mr. Monroe and Mr. Muhlenberg.” Once Alex heard those names, he immediately recalled the name of the man standing in front of him: Mr. Venable, one of Mr. Monroe’s allies.

   “What is the purpose of this meeting?”

   “To discuss your mismanagement over the government funds,” another voice answered.

   The speaker, Mr. Monroe, and another man, presumably Mr. Muhlenberg, stepped into the room.

  “We need to talk.”

* * *

 

_1 week ago_

   “would you like some more whiskey, mr. monroe?”

   mr. monroe nodded his head and held out his cup to refill. as maria went over to refill his cup, james glared at her. she had been explicitly told to not enter while he met with his, but she knew that as long as he was here, he would not hurt her. taking advantage of this, she sat quietly in the corner of her sitting room and observed them from afar.

   “this is some fine whiskey,” mr. monroe commented. “i suppose business has been going well for you, hasn’t it? the last time i saw you, you told me you were in debt.”

_he still is, but it’s not his job that’s been funding his liqueur supply._

   “I’ve been lucky the past six months,” james replied, “anyhow, enough small talk. you are here today because i would like to make a deal.”

   "what sort of deal?”

   “you see, i have information about one of your political enemies that could destroy his career.”

   “continue.”

   james slowly chugged down the rest of his whiskey. he pointed at maria. “refill this cup, woman.” he turned his attention back to mr. monroe. “please excuse me, i need to use the washroom.”

   mr. monroe slammed down his cup on the table, nearly shattering it in his hand.

   “tell me now,” he demanded.

   “money first,” james replied with a smirk.

   “how will i know your information is reliable?”

   “you don’t.”

   mr. monroe glared at him for a moment. “and how much do you want?”

   “more than what he is paying me to stay silent. so... one hundred dollars.”

   “only a fool would do so.”

   “or a person desperate enough to take down his enemy.”

   “and i’m not that desperate.”

   james shrugged. “suit yourself.”

   a moment of tense silence stretched across the room before mr.monroe broke it.

   “who is this person?”

   “alexander hamilton.”

   mr. monroe’s eyes gleamed with interest. “go on.”

   “money first.”

   mr. monroe took a stack of bill, split it in half and placed it on the table. “you will get the other half when you’re done.”

   james shoved the bills down his pocket securely. he gave him a greasy smile. “alright, that’s what i’m talking about.”

   “now tell me about him,” mr. monroe ordered.

   “he has been participating in improper speculation.” james pulled out a few documents and placed it on the table for him to see. “if you confront him about it, he will be shamed by the public and removed from power. then, you’ll be able to run the government according to the democratic-republican agenda.”

   maria watched as mr. monroe sift through the documents and digest james’ information. although she prayed that mr. monroe would decline this opportunity, she knew that it was futile. he would not be able to resist the chance to knock out an enemy.

   “all right,” he agreed finally. he took out the rest of the money and tossed it on the table, which james eagerly snatched. “keep the change.”

   with a respectful nod to both james and maria, he left.

   “improper speculation?”

   james turned to face her. “well, he wasn’t going to believe me if i said sodomy. heck, even a kid wouldn’t.”

   “and the documents?”

   “real. all i had to show was the documents recording the transaction of bribe money between me and hamilton, and he was sold.” he took a sip of his whiskey. “i honestly don’t care what charge is going to sink his career. as long as i get money, the politicians can do whatever the hell they want.”

   “isn’t hamilton’s bribe money enough?”

   “no, i want more, and you better not get in the way ‘cause if you do, i’ll kill you and susan. got it?”

   “not susan,” she begged. ”leave her out of this.”

   “she’s my daughter, too. woman, i can do whatever the hell i want.” he craned his neck. “susan!”

   “no!” she shrieked. she grabbed his arms. he yanked his arms from her grip and slapped her across the face. she cried out in pain and tumbled backwards.

   “just stay out of my fucking business, bitch. it’s not that hard.”

   “mommy?”

   susan stood at the entry of the living room, watching their parents in terror.

   “it’s alright, sweetie,” maria reassured, trying to prevent her tears from slipping down her face. “everything is okay.”

   if she said it enough times, maybe her statement would come true.

* * *

 

_Now_

   Alex steeled his nerves. Even though there was a chance these men did not know about his affair with John, he still felt like they knew. No one should know, especially not Eliza.

   “As a matter of fact, we do,” Alex said coolly. “I would like to ask you to tell the members of your party to stop publishing lies about me.”

   “If you read the article, you can see that we clearly have evidence,” Mr. Monroe stated. “Improper speculation is a very serious crime, Mr. Hamilton. In fact, we were considering bringing this matter to court. Unless you can prove your innocence or you resign, expect to see us in court.”

   “I am innocent!” he insisted. “This is absolutely ridiculous! I would never do such a thing!”

   “Tell that to the judge.” Mr. Monroe turned to Mr. Venable and Mr. Muhlenberg. “Let’s go. It is clear that he is not willing to confess.”

   “Wait!” They paused. “If I can prove that I never broke the law, will you promise to never tell a single soul what you saw?”

   Mr. Monroe glanced at his colleagues. Mr. Muhlenberg merely shrugged while Mr. Venable glared at Alex suspiciously. The three of them seemed to have a silent conversation with each other using their eyes before agreeing.

   As Alex pulled out a stack of documents showing the transaction of money between him and Mr. Reynolds and the amorous letters he received from John, he prayed that John would not be too angry at him later. He did not want to bring him into this mess, but if that was the only way to prove his innocence, it was a sacrifice he had to make. But was it worth it? Those letters contained responses to his innermost thoughts, dreams and secrets.

   He picked up a random letter and read a snippet of it. _Adieu, my dear friend,_ it read. _While circumstances place so great a distance between us, I entreat you to not withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens._ Soon, so would the three men, and if all went downhill, the rest of the country.

   Mr. Monroe cleared his throat, snapping him back to reality. It was now or never. He laid out the letters and the documents out.

   “Mr. Reynolds has been blackmailing me for the past six months. In exchange for a sum of money, he has agreed to remain silent on a matter I have hidden for the past six months.”

   “Your own money?” Mr. Venable questioned.

   “Yes.”

   “And what secret are you hiding?”

   “That I have been having an affair with Senator Laurens.”

   A moment of silence passed as they waited for Alex to bring up what they expected was the real secret.

   “I’m sorry, what?”

   “Don’t have a wife?”

   “Wait… you’re homosexual?”

 Both Mr. Venable and Mr. Muhlenberg backed away from him as if homosexuality was contagious.

   “It was probably his upbring in the Nevis that made him this way,” Mr. Monroe said, silencing his two other colleagues. “That’s where they send those... _sodomites_.”

   Mr. Venable picked up one of John’s letters. As he read it, Mr. Monroe and Mr. Muhlenberg went through the other documents to confirm his tale. While Mr. Muhlenberg seemed almost embarrassed and ashamed for prodding into his private life, Mr. Monroe’s face revealed nothing as to what he was feeling. As they satisfied their curiosity, Alex ran his fingers through his hair, a habit of his whenever he got stressed. He turned his back to them, fearing that he would reveal how petrified he was inside. _Calm down_ , he ordered himself. _Take deep breaths_. Once he felt calm enough to face them, he turned around and saw them give each other a small nod.

   “So?”

   “The people won’t know what we know,” Mr. Monroe answered.

   “How will I know you won’t use this against me the next time we go toe-to-toe?”

   “You don’t.”

* * *

   “Alex?”

   “Hm?”

   “You seem distracted,” John commented, turning on his side to face Alex. They were in Alex’s bed, talking about their day. Since Eliza and the children were sleeping over at a relative’s house and weren’t returning until early morning tomorrow, he had invited him to sleep at his house. Now that he thought of it, he was sleeping in Alex’s _and_ Eliza’s bed. He pushed the guilt to the back of his mind.

   “Sorry, long day at work. What were you saying about your father again?”

   “He sent me a boat ticket for London that is due to depart in a week. It’s like he’s forcing me to go back. He even had the audacity to offer his help in packing up when he visits me on Monday! Of course, I burnt up the letter right away and-” He paused, glancing at Alex. His eyes were fixated on the ceiling and his eyebrows were scrunched as if he were deep in thought.    “Alex, you’re not listening.”  
   “Huh? Oh… sorry.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

   “Tell me what’s wrong,” he urged.

   John listened to Alex as he told him about the accusations from the Democratic-Republicans and his visit from Mr. Monroe and his colleagues. Once he finished his story, he gazed at him in worry. “You are not mad at me, right? I did not want to bring you into this, but-”

   “Don’t worry, I’m not angry at all,” John reassured. “If I was in your position, I probably would have done the same.”

   “But I feel bad for-”

   John leaned over and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Really, it’s fine.”

   He felt the tension from Alex’s body release as he lay his head on his bare chest. Alex placed an arm around John, pulling him in closer. They lay in that position for a while before the silence was shattered by an urgent knock on the door.

   “I will get it,” Alex sighed, getting up from the bed. He picked up his shirt and his breeches from the floor, put them on and made his way to the door. John followed suit but decided to observe from the safety of the second floor, right outside Alex’s bedroom. From his angle, he had an unobstructed view of the main entrance. John watched as Alex opened the door, revealing Maria Reynolds and a young girl. Maria looked weary, with black circles under her eyes. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized that those were circles were bruises.

   “Do you mind if I come in? I don’t want my husband to see us here with you.” Maria said softly, as if her husband could hear.

   Alex hesitated, but then nodded and let them in.

   “Listen, I don’t have a lot of time before he noticed I’m gone. I wanted to tell you  I overheard Mr. Monroe tell my husband that he stole several of your documents and letters from John Laurens this morning when he visited you in your office.” He saw Alex’s face turn pale. “I can’t tell for sure if he’s going to publish it, but I just wanted to warn you in advance.”

   “Thank you for telling me.”

   She shook her head. “Don’t thank me. It’s my way of making it up to you after I betrayed your secret to my husband. You don’t owe me anything.”

   “You do realize that he will be furious if he finds out that you warned me, right?”

   “That’s why I’m not going back. My daughter Susan-” She gestured to the girl. “-and I plan to stay at my friend’s house, which is around the area.”

   “That’s not very far if you want to permanently escape his clutches.”

   “No,” she admitted. “But it’ll have to do.”

   “I can help you with that,” John called. Maria and Alex looked up to where John was standing in surprise. John re-entered Alex’s bedroom, groping the ground for his coat, and once he found it, he pulled out the boat ticket and his wallet. He descended the stairs to join them and presented the ticket and wallet to Maria for her to see.

   Maria frowned. “I can’t read what it says.”

   “Do you need a candlelight?”

   “No,” she said, embarrassed. “Not like that. I’m illiterate.”

   “Oh,” John replied, feeling foolish. “Right, uh, here is a boat ticket for London that leaves in a week and some money to buy another ticket for your daughter and anything else you need.”

   “Oh no… I could never accept it. I don’t deserve your kindness,” Maria said, her cheeks flushing with shame.

   “It’s not like I was going to use the ticket anyway” he shrugged.

   She hesitantly took the ticket and wallet. “Thank you so much for everything, Mr. Laurens. And you too, Mr. Hamilton.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why would you help me even after I betrayed your trust?”

   “We all make mistakes,” Alex replied.

   “So you’re not mad at me?” she asked hopefully.

   “No, we are. If you had kept quiet, we would not be in this position right now.”

   “Oh.”

    “We’re going to be condemned for our sexuality and disloyalty to our partners once they find out. We don’t need to add “turning down a helpless woman” to our list of crimes.” He opened the door. “I think it’s best if you leave now.”

   John and Alex watched as Maria and Susan walked away. John intertwined his fingers with Alex’s. “I wonder if we’ll ever see them again,” he mused.

Alex’s face became serious. “I am not too worried about them. We have bigger problems to deal with.” A pit of dread settled in John’s stomach as he realized what he was talking about.

   “Perhaps they won’t publish it,” John said, trying and failing to sound optimistic.

   Alex laughed mirthlessly. “Trust me, they will not miss an opportunity to rip us down, even if it means attacking us on a personal level.”

   “Even if they do, we can always ignore it. If we don’t respond to their attacks, people might think that it’s all a lie.”

   “But they have evidence.”

   “So what do you suggest we do?”

   “We tell the public ourselves about our affair.”

   John stared at Alex in shock. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

   “I know it sounds stupid and irrational-”

   “Because it is!’

   “-but hear me out! We know that they are going to publish it. The fact is inevitable. They have published vicious lies about me before, and people believed it, even though they did not have empirical evidence to back it up. Now that they do, they can twist the story however they please, making the situation seem worse than it actually is. If we publish it ourselves, at least we have the power to set the record straight and meet our doom at our own terms.”

   “I don’t like this plan.”

   Alex sighed, looking tired and defeated. “I never said it was going to be a good one, but it seems like the best one we have.”

   “Is it?”

   John couldn’t think of anything, but didn’t want to admit defeat just yet.

   “Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” John suggested. “We need to sleep.”

   However, John couldn’t sleep, and as Alex tossed and turned in bed beside him, he knew Alex couldn’t either.

* * *

 

   “Mr. Laurens! Here for your daily newspaper?”

   John nodded, too tired to speak. As he placed his payment on the counter, and Kenneth, one of the men who worked at the store, tossed him a copy of the _American Minerva,_ before shelving the rest on the rack. A newspaper boy walked in with a stack of the _Aurora_ and placed a note on the counter.

   “Hey boy! Do you mind reading what it says?” Kenneth asked.

   The boy picked up the note and read, “Expect a large shipment of the _Aurora_ on Monday evening to be sold on Tuesday morning. Reduce the price from six cents to four cents. Try to sell as much as possible.”

   “Do you know what that edition will be about?” Kenneth asked.

   “All I know for sure is that a man named Mr. Monroe is writing it. As for what it’s about, I’ve overheard that Mr. Monroe has found out a secret that the Secretary of Treasury, Alexander Hamilton, has been hiding, and he plans to expose it.”

   John felt his mind go blank with shock. No, this couldn’t be happening.

   The newspaper boy continued. “The reason they’re reducing the prices is so everyone can get a hold of a copy. They are determined to let the whole city, and possibly the county, know.”

   “Well, I can’t wait to read it!” Kenneth exclaimed when the boy left. “This must be some juicy news, especially because the Aurora is willing to lower their prices.” He glanced at John. “Sir, are you okay? You look a bit pale and-”

   “I’m fine!” John abruptly cut him off. “Really, I am.”

   “If you insist,” he shrugged.

   John had been planning to spend the day with Hercules and catch up at this tailoring store, but that would have to wait. He ran to Alex’s house, swerving around people that seemed to act as barriers to his destination. By the time he arrived, he was breathless and panting. He barely had time to gain his composure when Eliza opening the door.

   “John! It’s so nice to see you! Are you alright? You-”

   He waved her off. “I’m fine. Where is Alex?”

   “He’s working inside. Is something wrong?”

   “No! Not at all. I mean, yes.”

   Eliza let him in and lead him to their bedroom where Alex was working at his desk.

   “Alex, you have a visitor,” Eliza called.

   Alex looked up, and when he saw John’s frantic, disheveled state, he asked Eliza to leave them to talk in private.

   Once Eliza left, John blurted, “Monroe is planning to release an article exposing our affair this Tuesday morning.”

   “That soon?” He glanced at his papers. “I guess I will just have to work faster.”

   “What are you working on?”

   “Our confession to the public.”

   “I thought we agreed that was a terrible idea!”

   “Unless you have another plan, unfortunately, this is our best idea!” His face softened. “John, I will not publish it without your consent, but you have to understand that this is our only shot at preserving our legacy truthfully.”

   John let out a sigh of frustration. “I don’t like it, but you’re right. I’ll agree if you promise me that you’ll tell Eliza beforehand.”

   “I can’t,” he said, shaking his head in sadness. “It will break her heart.

   “You owe that to her. It’s better for her to find out firsthand from you than from the news,” John pressed.

   Alex nodded and dipped his quill in ink. “If I work all day, I can probably get it published and released on Monday.”

   “Is there anything I can do to help?” John asked.

   “No.” John turned to leave, but Alex stood up and grabbed his arm. “John, I just wanted to let you know that whatever happens, I do not and will not regret a single moment in our relationship. If I could, I would do it and fall in love with you all over again.”

   “Alex,” John whispered. “Please stop being so sentimental. You’re scaring me.”

   “John,” he groaned. John was suddenly aware at how tired his lover looked. Tired of lying. Tired of living. Tired of fighting a merciless world with the cards stacked against him. “I am being serious.” 

   He was right. They probably wouldn’t have much time together, so every moment had to count. After all, there are no such things as happy endings in the real world   
  


   “We should stop,” Alex said softly but firmly. He gestured to his work. “Got a lot to do.”

   “So this is the end of our affair?”

   “Yes,” Alex confirmed. “I think it’s best if we go back to being just friends.”

   He nodded, and when he left his house, he spotted Eliza knitting on a weathered stone bench.

   “Is everything alright?” Eliza asked.

   “Yes,” he replied.

   He felt like the biggest liar in the world.   

* * *

   Alex put down his quill. He had finished editing the confession, titled “The Charge of Speculation Against Alexander Hamilton, Secretary of the Treasury, Is Fully Refuted”, and it was ready to be submitted to the printers. He had told John that he did not regret a single thing in their relationship but he did regret that he would have to hurt Eliza in the process.

   As if his thoughts had summoned her, he heard her come out of bed and stop beside his desk.

   “Alex, it’s dark outside. Get some rest.”

   “Eliza, can we talk for a minute? I need to tell you something”

   “What is it? Is something wrong?”

   “It is about John Laurens and me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like it, please leave a kudos. Also, leave a comment too! What did you like about my story? Dislike? Do you have a favourite part? I’m open to constructive feedback, and that will be greatly appreciated, as I am an author that always tries my best to improve. Also, another way you can help is by sharing my story. It can be anyone. A friend! An enemy! A stranger! A fellow fan!  
> Although my updating schedule is irregular, I try to do my best to update as soon as possible, so stick around!
> 
> Your question of the day is: Do you think Alex was justified in releasing his pamphlet? Why or why not? Go forth and debate it out in the comment section. I'd love to hear your opinion!


	4. Burn

   Hurt. Confusion. Heartbreak. Anger. Jealousy. Sadness. Pain.

   These emotions were like ravens circling a dead carcass. Emotions that joined together, forming a symphony, drowning out the words coming out from Alex’s mouth.

   His lips moved to form her name. _Eliza._ Those were the same lips that promised to be loyal to her until the day they died. The same lips that kissed her tenderly and told her that he loved her.

   Those were the same lips that kissed John. Told him that he loved him.

   She shook her hand. This couldn’t be happening to her.

   But it was.

   Was she not good enough for Alex? How long had Alex loved John? Had Alex loved her at all?

   Yes, he did. She was sure of it. He had been a good husband and father. His letters to her were often full of his declarations of his undying love for her.

   Did John receive similar letters too? What if those letters were just a cover-up to make Eliza think that he loved her when he truly loved John instead?

   It took every ounce of her strength to focus on what Alex was saying. He went on and on about how he was sorry and how it was necessary for the pamphlet to be published.

   The...pamphlet?

   Right, the pamphlet. She skimmed through the papers Alex placed in her hands.

_The charge against me is a connection with one James Reynolds, for purposes of improper speculation. My real crime is an amorous connection with Senator John Laurens. I had frequent meetings with him, most of them in his own house. Mrs. Hamilton and our children being unaware of it all…._

   Her eyes jumped to the letters he exchanged with John.

_While circumstances place so great a distance between us, I entreat you to not withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens._

   She stopped reading after that. Her mind felt numb, bruised with the conflicting emotions that had been raging in her head.

   "Eliza?”

   Alex hesitantly placed his hand on hers, which lay unmoving in her lap.

   “Eliza, please say something.”

   She could hear the desperation and concern creep into his voice. But what do you say to a man who’s effectively shattered your heart into pieces?

   So Eliza gave him the only thing she had left to offer.

   Silence.

* * *

 

   “You’re going to catch a cold if you stay out here,” a voice chided her gently.

   Eliza watched as her old sister, Angelica, sit next to her on the stone bench. Like her face and hands, her mind was still numb. Being unable to sleep, she stayed up all night trying to process her feelings. She had chosen to stay out in the garden lest one of the children caught her crying. She wasn’t ready to have that conversation with them yet.

   “Come inside,” Angelica urged. “Alex will take the children to church today.”

   Eliza allowed herself to be lead inside into her living room, where the fireplace was already lit. Angelica placed a hot cup of tea in her hands. She took a sip, washing down the taste of salty tears.

   “How are you feeling?”

   She didn’t respond.

   Angelica took the hint. “Well, is there anything I could do for you to help?”

_Take away the pain._

   “Would it help if you and the children moved uptown to live with Father and me? Just for a while?”

   Eliza slowly nodded.

   “Alright,” Angelica stood up to leave. She hesitated, as if she decided that she shouldn’t speak, but pressed on anyway. “Alex told me about the pamphlet. He says that he will not publish it without your consent.”

   To release the pamphlet would mean exposing their family secrets to the public, forever tarnishing their reputation. It would mean being taunted by Democratic-Republican newspapers for being a bad wife who is incapable of maintaining her husband’s loyalty.

   Perhaps a small part of her wanted to see Alex’s reputation, which he desperately tried to protect, struck down by the media. Perhaps it wanted to see Alex punished for his infidelity. Perhaps it was angry at John for stealing her husband’s affections away from her. Perhaps it was that small part of her that made her agree.

   Angelica looked mildly surprised but nodded. She left the room, leaving Eliza alone with her swirling thoughts.

   Eliza picked up a box that was placed above the fireplace. It was a simple dark green box, tied with a silky ribbon. After opening the box, she took out one of her most prized possessions: her letters from Alex. She scanned through the letters, rereading the sentences that had once sparked joy. Now, the words felt cold and unfamiliar. These words were nothing but a well-crafted lie that Eliza had willingly and foolishly believed.

   She offered the flames the edge of a letter. It licked it up and swallowed it, erasing any trace of the letter. Eliza slowly started feeding the fire the letters, watching each of them burn. At the end when there was only a letter left, she expected to feel a glimmer of satisfaction, or anger, or some sort of emotion. Instead, she felt hollow.

   As she burned the last letter, she heard the stifled sob of the man that she once loved and cherished, but no longer knew.

* * *

 

   Alex made his way through Congress Hall. He tried to ignore the harsh and judging stares of the senators as they whispered to each other, holding a copy of the pamphlet. He tried to ignore the delighted smirk on Jefferson’s face as he brandished his copy, spreading the news like wildfire. He tried to ignore the ache in his heart left by Eliza’s absence. The third thing was the hardest to ignore.

   He spotted John at his seat, his gaze fixed on a book he was reading. Judging by his lack of eye movement, he could tell that he was not actually reading.

   “How are you feeling?” he asked.

   John put down his book. “Apprehensive, I guess.” He looked at him with undisguised fear. “Alex..what do you think they’ll do to us?”

   “What do you mean?”

   “Sodomy is a capital offense. They could fine us, look us up in jail, or even kill us.”

   Alex held his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I am fairly sure that they will not kill us.”

   “You don’t know that.”

   “Well, if they do, at least we will die together,”

   John raised an eyebrow. “Was that supposed to be reassuring? Because you’re doing a horrible job at it and-”

   “Excuse me,” a voice interrupted their conversation.

   Alex turned around and saw Senator Burr, his Democratic-Republican frenemy, glare pointedly at their hands in disgust.

   “The senators over there and I would like to ask you to keep your...affections outside Congress. “

   “I don’t see what the problem is,” Alex retorted coldly. “Are we bothering you?”

   “This is a strictly professional work environment,” Senator Burr replied in a haughty tone.

   Alex bit back a response as Senator Burr strode away. He felt John’s hand pull away from his, and he saw John’s face burn with shame. His eyes were downcast like a scolded child’s.

   “The meeting is about to begin.” President Adam’s voice boomed from his spot at the front. “Please be seated.”

   Alex took his place next to John, wondering if the president had read his pamphlet yet. He hoped not, but a part of him wished he did so he could get the ordeal over with already.

   “On today’s agenda, we need to discuss the implementation of the Alien Act.” He glanced at his papers. “Senator Smith, would you-”

   “Hold on,” one of the Democratic-Republican Senators interjected. “What about Hamilton’s pamphlet?”

   His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “His what now?”

   A senator passed his a copy, and the room erupted with whispers as the president read.

   “Six months-”

   “Capital offense-”

   “What a disgrace to mankind-”

   “Never going to be president now-”

   “That’s one less thing to worry about-”

   “At least he was honest about it-”

   “His poor wife-”

   “Silence!” the president demanded. He glared at Alex and John. “Is it true?”

   “Yes sir,” he confirmed, refusing to let any emotion show on his face. He heard John echo his affirmation.

   A brief moment of tense silence passed as everyone looked at President Adams, wondering how he will react.

   “Meeting is postponed,” he announced. “We will reconvene in an hour.” To John and him, he said, “You two, stay behind.”

   President Adams waited for the senators to exit the room before continuing.

   “You must understand the difficult position I am in,” he said. “With the upcoming election, the party’s reputation is one of my greatest concerns. I cannot afford to have...sodomites ruin our party’s chances of winning. Therefore, I must ask you to resign.”

   Alex shot up from his seat, fury coursing through his veins. “Hold on, you cannot make us resign! It is unjust, and -”

   He faltered as he watched John write a brief resignation letter and hand it to the president.

   “Hold on,” Alex said. He dragged John by his wrist and pulled him to the corner of the room. “John, you cannot give up! We worked hard to be here and-”

   “Alex.” His defeated voice cut through his protests. “What’s the point of staying in office when others will not respect us? When the public will force us to resign? When we will most likely be voted off when the next election rolls around?”

   “We can still use this time to do what we can before the next election.”

   “You can stay if you want,” John replied. “I’m done here.”

   John grabbed his belongings before leaving him alone with the president.

  As much as he hated to admit it, John had a point, and now that John quit, there was no point in staying in Congress, surrounded by enemies.

       With a resigned sigh, he took out a quill and paper and wrote, _I, Alexander Hamilton, resign from my position as Secretary of the Treasury and a member of the Federalist Party._ He reluctantly handed in his resignation and left the building feeling empty on the inside.   

* * *

 

   On his way home, John realized that now he was jobless, he had nothing to do. He wandered around in the city, considering stopping by Hercules’s shop but ultimately rejecting that idea. He wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet. He wondered if it was too early to get a drink. His hands casually grazed the handle of a tavern door. Before he could make up his mind, a crowd of young men roughly shouldered him aside to enter the establishment. Except for the tallest one, they didn’t bother glancing at him. Unfortunately, the one who did look recognized him.

   “Hey, isn’t that the guy Kenneth was talking about? John Laurens?”

   The rest of the group turned around and studied him closely. He withered under their stares.

   “I think you’re right,” one agreed.

   Before he could see it happening, a third man leaped forward, grabbed John by his shoulders and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek. The crowd, plus a few bystanders, roared with laughter as he wiped his cheek with his sleeve, his face burning red with anger and embarrassment. His assaulter stepped back, grinning wildly and maliciously.

    “Cut that out!” he snapped.

   “I thought you liked that sort of thing,” he replied, batting his eyelashes innocently.

   John gritted his teeth. “Well, stop it.”

   “Aw, is little Laurens angry?” the tall one taunted. “Better run back to Hamilton. Maybe he will-”

   John didn’t let him finish his sentence. Letting his anger dictate his actions, he slammed his fist into the man’s face. He felt a split second of satisfaction before the others attacked him. As meaty arms restrained his arm movement, the tall man rammed his fists into his body over and over again. By the time they had decided they had done enough, John was sure that there were bruises covering his entire body, and if he was lucky, only a few bones were broken. They dropped him on the ground and spat on him before walking away. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cold ground provide temporary relief to his swelling bruises.

   He felt a foot nudge into his back. With a groan of pain, he rolled over and saw the last person he wanted to see at the moment.

   His father.

   If he was shocked or concerned, he concealed it well. Or maybe he wasn’t at all. The latter was more likely. He ordered his servant to help him into the carriage. Once they were moving, his father started talking.

   “I heard about the rumours. Is this what they beat you up for?”

   “Yes sir,” John managed to say, trying to maintain his manners and composure in front of his father.

   “Well, that is ridiculous. A story about two sodomites, one of them a married man with several children and a loving wife, and another who is my very own son and also a married man.” He muttered under his breath. “Although he certainly doesn't act that part.” He continued. “Anyway, a man would have to be a fool to believe this rumour. This could not possibly be true, right?”

   He glanced at John for confirmation. John felt his heart sink like a leaden ball at the thought of disappointing his father yet again.

   “False.”

   John didn’t dare glance at his father. As the sound of the carriage wheels rolling on the paved streets filled the silence, he kept his eyes trained on the ground, anticipating his father’s disapproval, fury, and disgust.

   He waited. A minute passed, then another. When they arrived at John’s house, his father still hadn’t said a word. He risked a peek at him. His face was cold and expressionless, imposing and unyielding as the bleak mountains he had seen in Switzerland. He’d almost wish he’d say something, _anything_ , to break the tense silence that stretched like the English Channel. Even having his father yell at him would be better than waiting for the other shoe to drop.

   His father didn’t say anything as his servant had checked John over, concluding that other than the myriad of painful and swelling bruises, there were no other injuries.

   He didn’t say anything as John made pitiful attempts to get his father to talk over lunch.

   He didn’t say anything when the police came to take him away.

* * *

 

   Alex stood before the grand doors of the Schuyler mansion. What once felt like a second home to him now felt imposing and intimidating. It vaguely reminded him of the first time he met the Schuylers. As he stood in front of the doors, he had been anxious of what they would think about him. The voices in his head whispered _You’ll never be good enough for them. Turn back and save yourself the embarrassment and pain._

   He gave three sharp raps on the door and waited, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from freezing off. Minutes passed, and he wondered if they had heard him at all or were deliberately ignoring him. He raised his hands to knock on the door again when Peggy, his sister-in-law, opened the door.

   “What do you want,” she asked sharply, her tone as bitter and cold as the weather.

   “May I come in?” he requested, taken aback by the sharp sting of her words.

   She glared at him before stepping back, allowing him to enter.

   “Thanks, Peggy-”

   “Don’t,” she snapped. “It’s Margarita. You don’t get to call me Peggy.”

   She whipped around and staked into the dressing room. Alex followed her in a bit reluctantly, starting to doubt his decision to come. Maybe he should have given them more time to calm done. But no, it was going to be a difficult conversation either way. He might as well get over with it.

   The sound of amiable chatter came from the drawing room. As he got close, he saw his father-in-law Philip entertaining his children with a story from the Revolution. His heart warmed at the sight of his children smiling and laughing. He then saw Angelica talking to Eliza on the opposite couch. Although Eliza’s eyes were red and puffy as if she had been crying recently, she had a small smile on her face. Alex yearned to rush to her side and comfort her, but from the last warning glance Peggy gave him, he took it as a sign to stay well away from her sister.

   Once he stepped into the room, the noise ceased and everyone turned around to stare at him. Angelica pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, protectively placing an arm around her sister’s shoulders. Peggy plopped down on the couch on her other side and crossed her arms definitely. Eliza looked down at her gracefully folded hands in her lap, deliberately avoiding his gaze.

   “Children, please excuse us for a moment,” Philip commanded. His voice was cool and controlled, and his expression was unreadable.

   The children shuffled out of the room, regarding him as if he was a stranger: curiously, distantly and warily. His heart twisted painfully.

   “I suppose you came here regarding the contents of the pamphlet,” Philip said, drawing his attention back to him.

    Alex nodded. He began the speech he had been practicing on the way here. “Sir, I sincerely-”

   Philip cut him off sharply. “I trusted you with my daughter. I told you to be true to her. You have disgraced our family name and betrayed our trust. How do you expect me to trust you with Eliza when part of your heart lies somewhere else?”

   His words shattered his argument like brittle ice crushed under his boot.

   “Furthermore, it is solely Eliza’s decision on whether she wants to go back. As of right now, she would rather not.”

   “Eliza.” His voice got stuck in his throat, making it tremble. “Is this true.”

   Eliza kept silent and did not look up. She did not need to.

   Silence spoke louder than words.

   Philip cleared his throat. “I think you should go.” This was not a suggestion.

   “Eliza, please,” Alex pleaded, stepping towards her. He struggled to keep back his tears. Wait, no. She should see them. Perhaps if she saw how sorry he was, she would forgive him.

   Angelica got up and ushered him out of the room, pulling him firmly by his arm. Once they were at a distance in which they could not be overheard, she shoved a newspaper into his chest. It was the _Aurora_. The front cover story was dedicated to mocking and tearing down him, John, and unfortunately, Eliza. He had hoped they would keep her out of this mess, but he should have known better.

   “‘Art thou a wife? Only a woman undeserving of her husband’s affection and attention would be cheated on,’” Angelica said, quoting the newspaper. She shook her head in disgust. “Congratulations, Alexander. You’ve just invented a new kind of stupid. A ‘damage you can never undo’ kind of stupid. An ‘open all the cages in a zoo’ kind of stupid. ‘Truly, you didn’t think this through?’ kind of stupid.”

   “Angelica, you don’t know the whole story. It was an act of political sacrifice!” he blurted out desperately.

   “Sacrifice?” she repeated incredulously. “My sister, your _wife_ , for God’s sake, _sacrificed_ everything to be with you! She gave up her comfortable, luxurious lifestyle for you. She could could have had any man, but she chose you! And this is how you repay her? She is absolutely devastated by your actions. As much as I tell her to ignore the article, it bothers her. She’s starting to believe the things it says, like how she’s a worthless wife undeserving of your attention, and it was her fault she was cheated on! You know what’s your problem? You’re so scared of what your enemies might do to you that you’re the only enemy you ever seem to lose to!”

   “I never meant for it to turn out like this! Please, let me tell her that it’s not her fault and I love her and-”

   “No you don’t!” she spat. She pointed to the door. “Leave.”

   “Angelica, please-”

   “Leave!”

Alex recoiled from the sting of her words and left without protesting further. He focused on controlling his emotions while walking home, refusing to let the world see how much pain he was in. Once he arrived at the front door of his house, he sank to the ground and let the tears fall silently. All the words he would have, _no,_ should have _,_ said rang in his mind. _I’m sorry it’s not your fault it’s my fault I never meant to hurt you don’t cry I love you I love you I love you I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m-_

   “Mr. Hamilton?”

   Two figures loomed over him.

   “You are under arrest. Put your hands where we can see them. I repeat, don’t move, and put your hands where we can see them…”

   He let the voices drown out his thoughts and numbly allowed him to take him away.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like it, please leave a kudos. Also, leave a comment too! What did you like about my story? Dislike? Do you have a favourite part? I’m open to constructive feedback, and that will be greatly appreciated, as I am an author that always tries my best to improve.  
> If you like it, share it with a friend! An enemy! A stranger!  
> Although my updating schedule is irregular, I try to do my best to update as soon as possible, so stick around!
> 
> Your question of the day is: Do you think Eliza should ever forgive Alex? What about John? Why or why not? Go forth and debate it out in the comment section. I'd love to hear your opinion!


	5. It's Quiet Uptown

   Five hours in jail, and John already hated it. The air reeked of piss, and the cell was dark and freezing and crammed with delinquents. The grey walls were etched with scratches, one scratch per day spent in jail. To avoid boredom, John counted the number of scratches the men next to him had. Five hundred sixty-three. And he hadn’t even gotten his trial yet.

   The cell door opened with a metallic shriek, and a guard tossed another man in. Due to the dark lighting, it took John a while to make out the shape of Alex’s face. 

   “Alex!” he called. Alex followed the sound of his voice, and his face lit up. John gestured to the space beside him. “Come here.”

   Alex scooted over, and the man on his right grumbled as he shifted over to make space for him.

   “Are you alright?” Alex asked. His eyes roamed over his body, noting the bruises that the men at the bar gave him. “What happened?”

   “Got into a fight. But it’s fine, really,” he reassured.

   Alex’s eyes darkened. “I swear, once I get out of here, I am going to make them pay.”

   “ _ If _ we get out.”

   “Such an optimist.”

   John laughed, causing Alex to grin at his own remark. Several men looked at him strangely upon hearing the foreign sound of a laugh.

   “Well, I suppose you have a good shot at being bailed out. The Sch-” John stopped, mortified at his mistake.

   Alex looked away. “I tried talking to them today. I wanted to ask for their forgiveness and for Eliza to come home, but they refused to hear me out.”

   John felt a surge of jealousy erupt in his heart. Was Alex moving over him so soon? Then, he felt guilt replace his jealousy as soon as that thought arrived. He shouldn’t be jealous. Eliza was rightfully his wife. Alex was never his.

   Alex changed the subject. “How did your father react to the pamphlet?”

   “He wasn’t too pleased about it, so the chances of him bailing me out are lower than the probability of it snowing in summer.” He shrugged. “So I guess we’re stuck here.”

   Alex rested his head on John’s shoulders. “At least we’ll be together.”

   John lay his head on top of Alex’s. “Right, together.”

   “And when we get out-”

   “ _ If _ we get out.”

   “No,  _ when  _ we get out, we will fix everything. We are going to get your father to accept you for who you are.”

   “And you’ll get the Schuylers and Eliza back.”

   “And for fun, we’re going to kiss each other right in front of Burr and Adams.”

   John grinned. “I am looking forward to doing that.”

   “Kissing, or disgusting Burr and Adams?”

   “Both.”

   Alex chuckled, and his laughter vibrated throughout his body. He closed his eyes. “Good night, love.”

   The name  _ love _ sent a thrill of giddiness through his blood, but it was slightly soured by the fact that once they got out of jail, they would have to go their separate ways and never be closer than friends, that is, if they were able to remain friends. At least he would have his time in jail to spend with Alex.

   Suddenly, jail didn’t seem so bad anymore.

* * *

 

   A foot kicked John’s head roughly. 

   “Get up,” a gruff voice ordered. 

   John’s eyes snapped open. He was lying on the floor. He guessed his head must have slipped off Alex’s shoulder while he was sleeping. He looked around for Alex.

   He wasn’t here.

   “Where’s Alex?” he demanded, sitting up. 

   “Who?”

   “The man with ginger hair and blue eyes? The one who came in yesterday?”

   “Oh, him,” the man responded. “The guard went to take him away to talk to someone. Mr. Laurens, or something like that.”

   What did his father want with Alex?

   He paced the cell, or rather, took a few steps forward then turned around to walk in the opposite direction. Minutes seemed to stretch into hours as he waited. God, he hoped Alex hadn’t said or done anything foolish. He also hoped his father was being nice to him. Which hope was more unrealistic, he couldn’t tell. His stomach coiled into a sailor’s knot, preventing him from choking down his meager breakfast.

   Finally, he heard two sets of footsteps walking towards the cell. He rushed to the door of the cell. He saw a guard escorting Alex back and smiled in relief. 

   “John Laurens?” the guard called. “Your father would like to see you.”

   The door opened, and he pushed Alex inside. John grabbed Alex by the shoulders and pulled him in for a tight hug.

   “John?” Alex asked. His eyebrows scrunched up in concern.

   “I was worried,” he murmured, breathing in his familiar scent to calm himself down. He pulled back. “What did my father say to you?”

   “Just a few words.”

   “Hurry up Laurens!” the guard yelled.

   “You should go.” Alex leaned in as if he was going to give him a quick kiss on the lips, but thought better of it considering where they were.. “Good luck with your father.” He hesitated, then added. “I will miss you dearly. Please, never forget me and my love for you.”

   His stomach filled with dread and gnawed away at the lining. “What do you mean? I’ll see you again right?” He couldn’t bring himself to believe this was the last time he would see Alex. He couldn't imagine a world without Alex in it. No, he could, but he didn’t want to imagine it.

   “Laurens, I haven’t got all day!” the guard snapped. He grabbed John roughly by the arm and steered him away. John made a half-hearted attempt to wiggle out of his grasp before deciding it was futile.

  He turned around and yelled, “Alex! This won’t be the last time I’ll see you. I promise!”

  Alex only gave him a sad smile in return.

* * *

 

   Feeling cold after being removed from Alex’s embrace, he curled up in the rickety chair. He was isolated in a small room no bigger than his washroom with only a table separating the two chairs. The thought of seeing his father unnerved him greatly, but he refused to let his father see him frightened.

   He heard the grating sound of the door as it was pushed open, and he hurried to sit properly, the way his father had taught him. Back straight, shoulders back, chin up, legs uncrossed, hands by his side or on the table,  _ and for fuck’s sake, John, look at me _ .

   His father slid into the empty chair, and for a while, neither of them spoke. John stared levelly into his father's eyes, noticing for the first time how alike their eyes were. Same shape, same tint of light blue. But no. Until Alex mentioned it in a conversation, he hadn’t really given much thought into the subject.

_    “Your eyes are lovely,” Alex had said. “Like a bright fresh stream on a spring’s day. Your father’s eyes are two ovals of permafrost, frozen like his heart.” _

   He hoped he’d never turn out like his father.

   “Your Hamilton is a very impressive man,” his father finally commented. “There is no wonder that he charmed you like so many others.” 

   He paused and gave him what seemed like an accusational glare. He couldn’t quite tell.

   “In fact,” he continued. “He even managed to convince me to pay to release you and clear your charges. And so I did.” John’s heart fluttered with hope like a butterfly testing its wings. “But under a few conditions.”

   “First, you must never contact or see Hamilton again. I will not have your lewd desires aroused. Second, you must go back to London and live with Martha and never return to America unless I authorise it. I will know if you have not followed my orders. Your wife is already aware of this arrangement, as I sent a letter to her a few weeks ago, but I suppose I will have to send another one regarding your, ah, attraction to men. Do you have your boat ticket for Friday?”

   “No sir,” he mumbled. He dropped his eyes to the ground.

   “Speak louder boy,” he ordered.

   “No sir,” he repeated, forcing himself to make eye contact.

   “And why is that?”

   “I gave it away.”

   John heard the faint  _ tsk _ of disapproval. “Well, no matter. I can secure you a spot for a ship that leaves for tomorrow afternoon. The sooner you leave, the better.”

   “What about Alex?”

   “What about him?”

   “Are you going to bail him out too?” As soon as he asked, he already knew the answer.

   “Absolutely not. The Schuylers can do that.”

   “But the Schuylers won’t.”

   “Well, that’s not my problem.”

   “Please,” John pleaded. “At least allow me to pay.” He hesitated, then swallowed his pride and added, “Father.”

   “I will not allow you to do that.” His tone was harder and cooler than an igneous rock which refused to be eroded by the forces of nature.

   His father stood up. “If you would prefer, you are free to rot in jail.”

_    If you aren’t deported or hanged first. _ He didn’t say it, but the implication was clear.

   John wanted to be brave. He wanted to defy his father like the heros in stories, but he knew it would be foolish to. He’d have a better chance in finding ways to free Alex if he was a free man. He would have to take the carrot his father had dangled in front of him, even if the carrot was rotten, moldy and homophobic.

   His father left the room, and he trailed after him like an abused yet faithful dog.

* * *

 

   Salty waves of the ocean laped against the shore, causing the boats to sway back and forth. The dock was filled with people of different classes waiting to board the  _ USS Saratoga.  _ The crew members of the boat shouted orders to each other in preparation of their departure. 

   The sun’s rays provided little comfort against the usual chill of an early March afternoon. John sat alone on a flat rock, shivering a little underneath his layers of clothing while a servant, who his father had sent to watch over him, hovered nearby. His quill hovered over the paper on his lap. He could sense the ink drying up the longer he hesitated, so he decided to begin writing.

_    Dear Betsey- _

   He scratched that out. That nickname was too personal for him to use.

_    Dear Mrs. Hamilton- _

   Too formal.

 

_ Dear Eliza, _

_    I’ve been sitting here for the past fifteen minutes, trying to figure out how to write this to you, but since I don’t have the luxury of time, I’m just going to tell you straight. _

_    First of all, I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for taking away your husband’s affections when if should have only been focused on you. I’m sorry for all the pain and trouble the pamphlet has caused you. I’m sorry that my apologies will never be enough. _

_    I’m sorry I wasn’t able to tell you this in person. After my father agreed to bail me out, he ordered me to leave America and stay in London with my wife, so I expect that you won’t be seeing me anytime in the future. In fact, I’m about to board the boat, but before I go, I have one final plea. _

_    Please release Alex out of jail and clear his charges. I know you may despise him for his wrongs. That is completely understandable, but I believe that he shouldn’t be punished forever for his mistakes that is partially my fault too. Although it may seem hard to believe, he genuinely loves you. Trust me, there wasn’t a point in our affair where he regretted that he’d have to hurt you in the process. _

_    You don’t need to doubt his love for you. Whatever was between him and me is over. Attached to my letter is all the letters Alex sent me. This is the only act of reconciliation I can offer you aside from paying you back for clearing his charges if required. I’m giving him up to you. He is yours, and yours forever. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ John L. _

   It wasn’t until he closed up his letter with a blue seal until he realized that he had agreed to part with the only remnants he had left of Alex. He thumbed through the letters, rereading snippets of it. Alex’s first letter. Alex admitting that he was his best friend, and perhaps something more. Alex scolding him for not writing often. Alex describing his love for Eliza. Alex asking him to join him in Congress. Alex’s last letter.

   The loud blast of the boat’s horn snapped him from his reveries. He wrapped up the letters in a package and paid a boy to deliver it to Eliza. He boarded the boat, but didn’t take a seat like the other passengers. Instead, he stared back at the mainland as it got smaller along with his hopes of returning.

* * *

 

   “No fucking way.”

   Eliza watched as Peggy snatched the letter from the pile on the table and get up to toss it into the hungry flames. Angelica swiftly moved to block her, her huge pastel pink skirts trailing behind her. 

   “First of all, watch your language,” Angelica reprimanded.

   “Secondly, Eliza has the right to see it.”

   “Not a letter from that…” she trailed off, struggling to find an insult that conveyed her hatred for him. With a quick flick of her slender wrists, she threw it into the fireplace, but it bounced off Angelica’s skirt. Angelica snatched up the letter before Peggy could retaliate. 

   “Damn it,” Peggy scowled. She stomped back to the velvet cushioned sofa that lay across from Eliza and flopped back down in a what Angelica would consider a very unladylike way.

   “Language.”

   “I was just trying to protect her!” Peggy protested.

   Eliza would have been touched by her sister’s protectiveness if not for the fact that she was sick of her family tiptoeing around her, as if the mention of Alex or John would send her into a fit of hysterics. 

   “I want to read the letter,” she said. Her sister’s looked at her as if they just remembered she was sitting there. She wouldn’t have been surprised, considering she had barely spoken in the past twenty-four hours.

   Angelica moved the letter out of her sight, concealing it behind the folds of her skirt. “Perhaps another time, dear. Why don’t we spend the afternoon playing the piano. We can do a duet, and Peggy can sing for us.”

   “Absolutely not!” Peggy exclaimed. Angelica glared at her. “I mean, sure.”

   “You just said I had the right to see it,” Eliza pointed out.

   “Another time,” Angelica repeated dismissively.

   “I’m not fragile!” she snapped. “Just because you think I will fall apart every time someone mentions their names doesn’t mean I will!” 

   Angelica’s and Peggy’s eyebrows shot up so high that she swore that they had gotten tangled in their elaborate hairdos.

   “Damn,” Peggy muttered in both shock and awe.

   Angelica was too taken aback by her outburst to reproach Peggy for her language. She slowly handed her the letter, as if sudden movements could scare her away or cause her to snap.

   She opened the red seal with ease. She read it once. Twice actually, to make sure she had read it correctly. 

   “Where are the other letters?” she asked to no one in particular. She went through the piles of letters. It wasn’t there. Perhaps it had been misplaced while the mailman delivered them?

   She checked the envelope to see if they were stuffed inside, but it was disappointingly devoid. A horrible feeling sank into her gut. What if this was sort of trick letter some Democratic-Republican or their allies had sent to her? Sure, the envelope claimed it was from John’s address, but the red seal was the non-descript seal commoners who could afford it used.

   But any wealthy family who conversed with the Laurens knew they used their blue seal which had the family crest on it.

   She squinted her eyes. 

   It was a bit smudged as if it applied hastily, but Eliza could make out the outline of the crest.

   The crest of the Schuyler family.

   “Where are the letters?” she asked Angelica.

   “What do you mean? This is the only one,” she responded carefully. Too carefully, as if she was guarding her emotions.

   “Don’t lie to me. I know you opened the letter.” She pointed to the seal. “You’re not as clever as you think you are.”

   The sisters glared at each other, each unwilling to back down. 

_    I won’t shatter like a porcelain doll. Throw your worst at me, _ she thought defiantly, but as soon as these thoughts arrived, doubt creeped in.  _ What if they are protecting you? What if they’re right? What if you can’t handle it? What if…. _

   Angelica gave in first. “Fine,” she sighed.

   She left the room and returned promptly with a stack of letters, As Peggy read the original letter, Eliza went through every single letter.

_    Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it might be in my power, by action rather than words, to convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that 'till you bade us Adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. _

_    I have written you five or six letters since you left Philadelphia and I should have written you more had you made proper return. But like a jealous lover, when I thought you slighted my caresses, my affection was alarmed and my vanity piqued. I had almost resolved to lavish no more of them upon you… _

   It was clear that from the loving tone and the elegant prose that he had loved John dearly. Eliza couldn’t help but feel as if she had competed for her husband’s affection and lost spectacularly, which she had. It was the gut-punching, tear-jerking sensation that her sisters had expected the letters would produce. And they were right.

   But John had given her the letters for a reason. Not to hurt her, but as an act of reconciliation. He had written,  _ he is yours, all yours.  _ One day, Eliza would like to believe that.

   Eliza hated to admit it, but she dreadfully missed Alex. She missed his warmth and intellect. She missed how he smiled at her, soft as the sunset and gentle as the breeze. She missed he was always able to cheer her up and make her fall in love with him over and over again. She missed his non-stop work ethic that nearly drove him into insomnia. She missed his fierce protectiveness over those he loved, even if he got into trouble on multiple occasions. Most of all, she missed her husband. Her lover. Alex.

    She picked up John’s letter and without a moment of hesitation, fed it to the fire. For a while, the crackle of the flames was the only sound audible in the room.

   “Eliza,” Angelica asked slowly. “Why did you do that?”

   “Well, dear sister,” she replied. “To convince Papa to bail Alex out of jail, we can’t exactly have evidence that John might have influenced my decision, can we?”

   “You’re actually going to forgive him?” Peggy asked incredulously. “After all he has done to you? Aren’t you scared he’s going to break your heart again?”

   “I know what I’m doing,” Eliza responded, keeping her voice steady. She couldn’t let them know that she was doubting her choice too, or else they’d refuse to go along.

   “Yeah but… you’re throwing your heart at someone who broke it!”

   She felt a rush of anger and retorted, “What I do with my heart is none of your business, Margarita!’

  The room fell silent for the third time in the past hour. 

   Eliza immediately regretted her tone. 

   “I’m sorry,” she apologized, looking down at her lap.

   “No, don’t apologize. You’re right, Betsey. Your love life is none of our business, but we care for you and don’t want to see you hurt again,” Angelica said. She took a seat next to Eliza. “I will help you convince Father to bail Alex.”

   Peggy took a seat on the other side of Alex. “So will I.” She cracked her knuckles. “If he ever hurts you again, I will kick his ass so hard that King George III will be able to hear him scream from his throne room.”

   “Language,” Angelica said automatically. She shook her head in amusement. “ Margarita Schuyler Van Rensselaer, remind me to buy you a bar of soap for your dirty mouth.”

* * *

 

_ 5 weeks later _

_    72...74...76 Abbey Road _

   This was the address John’s father had provided, but it was different from the one Martha’s father lived in. Whereas his house was grandiose, with a lush green lawn and blooming roses in the summer, this house was a wilting dandelion in comparison. It was crowded among others in the busy London streets, and the melancholy grey sky did nothing to improve its appearance. He was now totally alone, as the servant his father had sent to accompany him was dead after catching some disease onboard.  With every step he took towards the house, he could feel the squelch of his shoes from the time he accidentally stepped into a puddle of rain water and who knows what else.

   Once he knocked, a young woman opened the door promptly. She took one look at John’s sodden appearance and wrinkled her nose in obvious disgust.

   “Who are you?” she demanded.

   “John Laurens. I’m Martha’s husband?” He winced at his hesitant and indecisive tone.

   “No, you’re not.” She slammed the door in his face.

   John stayed there, unsure of what to do next. A few seconds passed, then an older woman opened the door. Even though she was still the plump naive girl in his memories, he could still recognize her in her thin-faced matured form.

   “Good evening Martha,” he greeted, bending down to kiss her hands. As his lips brushed her fair-skinned hands, he noted its rough, calloused texture, unusual of a lady born into a wealthy family.

   She pursed her chapped lips. “John.”

   “May I come in?”

   She looked back inside as if she was checking something, then gave a slight nod.

   Martha led him inside her house, which was as small on the inside as if was on the outside. She didn’t offer to take his coat and hang it, but seemed to regret it when he sat down on a rather threadbare chair, soaking it with rain. Martha took a seat across from him, her back stiff.

   “You look like you’re doing well,” John said awkwardly. As soon as those words left his mouth, he cringed in embarrassment.

   “We’re having some turbulent times,” Martha responded frostily. “But that is none of your concern. Anyhow, my husband comes home at six o’clock sharp, so whatever you have to say, make it quick.”

   “Husband?” 

   “What? You think I was going to wait for you to return after spending more than twenty years away? Try raising a child of your own!” she snapped. She rubbed her eyes. “At least Frances is betrothed to someone.”

   “Please tell me you’re lying.” His own voice, cold with shock and disbelief, was foreign to his own ears.

   “What reason would I have to lie?”

   He stood abruptly, the chair legs scratching against the floor. “You swore a wedding oath to be loyal to me for the rest of your life! To break it would make you a-” He could taste the word as it nearly sprang from his lips.  _ Whore. _

   “So did you and Hamilton, but I don’t see you yelling at him for betraying that poor girl.”

   John froze, his fury draining into his leaden feet.

   She gave him a triumphant, wicked smirk. “You think you can have an affair, no, not with a woman, but with a  _ man,  _ and waltz back into my life like nothing happened?” She glanced at the clock casually. “If I were you, I would get out. My husband will arrive soon, and he’s not terribly fond of sodomites.”

   John didn’t need to be told twice. With as much dignity he could muster, he left.

   After wandering the streets for shelter, he finally found a small townhouse as dreary as the rest and a bit too close to Martha’s for his liking, but it’ll have to do. He flopped down on his bedroom floor, ignoring the gritty bits of debris and dust that tickled his skin. This was his life now, for better or for worse. Definitely worse.

   On an impulse, he dug into his bag for a jar of ink. Dipping his finger in it, he drew one line on the corner of the wall.

   One day in London. Only his father knew how many more.

* * *

 

   Alex’s father-in-law certainly knew how to make his repentance as difficult as possible. In exchange for spending Sunday mornings with his children, he had to take them to church. During the first couple of weeks, the priest made it a point in his routine to cite passages from the Bible stating that “you shall not lie with a man as with a woman; that is an abomination.” The pointed stares of the churchgoers would pierce his skin whenever he read that passage. Some people went as far as to tell him to “repent and turn away from sin.” As if he was not trying already.

   A splash of water landed on his pants. With a mock growl, he scooped up the offender in his arms.

   “Let me go Daddy!” James giggled, flailing his limbs.

   “Never!” he replied, baring his teeth. “I will eat you first!”

   “Noooooooo,” John wailed, tears of laughter streaming down his face. He launched himself at Alex and started pummeling his thigh. Alex Jr. aided his attack and shook his other leg. Philip and Angelica reached out and tried to grab James as Alex swung his back and forth. After a bit of tussling, he deposited James into Philip’s arms and fell on the muddy ground in defeat. The children pounced on him and continued their assault with doubled enthusiasm.

   “No,” he groaned. “Have mercy!”

   “Never!” John squealed. “Never, never, never, never!”

   “What in the world is going on?” 

   Alex rolled over, scattering his children like a flock of geese.

   Peggy stormed over, a scowl etched on her face.

   “Hey Peggy,” he grinned. “Care to join us?”

   “It’s Margarita, you idiot,” she snarled.

   James clapped his hands over his mouth and widened his eyes in horror. “Auntie Peggy said a bad word!”

   “Only I’m allowed to say that to your father,” Peggy said, glaring at Alex as if it was his fault. “Next time, try to return them from church without mudding their best clothes.”

   “Oh, come on,” Alex complained jokingly. “We were only having a bit of fun.”

   In fact, it was the first time since John left that he had laughed as much as he did today.

   “Well, have less fun,” Peggy retorted. She gathered the children and dusted off as much grass from their clothing as she could. “By the way, Eliza would like to see you.”

   As Alex followed Peggy and the children inside, he scraped off the bits of twigs, grass and mud that found its way into his clothing. He would prefer to have time to look presentable in front of Eliza, but he was eager to speak to her after weeks of strained silence. His excitement was combined with apprehension. What if he destroyed their relationship beyond repair? What if Eliza didn’t want him anymore? What if….

   He was at the entrance of the drawing room door before he knew it. Eliza sat on a chair inside, looking more composed than Alex felt on the inside. The way she sat made her seem as if she was modeling for the most talented painter in the world. Her beauty and spirit were worthy of being composed into thousands of songs. She was the perfect symphony, and the best of wives and best of women.

   She turned her regal yet warm gaze to him, and all his words dried up in his throat. This woman had rendered his silver tongue dumb.

   “Good morning Alex,” she said. “Today’s a nice day, don’t you think? Let’s take a walk.” 

   He nodded, unable to trust his mouth. He held out his arm for her, and she slipped her arm through it. At a steady walking pace, they meandered through the Schuylers’ prized garden. The plants had awoken from a long winter hibernation, and shoots of blossoms peaked through the leafy green vegetation. When they passed a bush of cloud pink primroses, he plucked one off and tried to stick it in her hair. His fingers fumbled as he tried to weave it through her elaborate hairdo, but at last he got it in, not as gracefully as he would like to though. He saw Eliza’s mouth quirk upwards in faint amusement.

   They continued walking, and Alex dreaded every second spent in silence. At last, he broke it.

   “It’s quiet uptown,” he commented. “I used to hate it, and I think I still do, but you know, silence can be a good thing. It gives me space to think, to clear my head and I think it’s been nice getting away from politics and everything. Downtown is busy, and you can always hear something, whether it’s the rushing of a cart’s wheels or the screech of a stray cat.” He cringed as he rambled. “Do you like it here?”

   Eliza paused to reflect upon his question, and answered, “Yes, I like it very much.”

   “Even when I am here?” 

   She paused again. “It’s fine.” 

   “Your father only wants me to come on Sunday mornings, so I assumed you were not ready for me yet, and I did not want to force myself in, so that’s why I stay away, and-”

   She held up her hands to silence him. “My family worries that I will throw my heart away again. They say I am too naive and too trusting, and sometimes I think they’re right. If I hadn’t met you, all of this wouldn’t have happened to me.”

   Alex’s heart sank. Perhaps she was cutting him away from her life after all.

   “But then I wouldn’t have known the joy that came from being with you. At this point, I can’t decide if I can ever forgive you for betraying my trust. I don’t know if your flaws outweigh the best parts of you. However, I don’t think loving only your good parts would truly be loving.” She took a deep breath. “So I’m going to give  _ us _ another chance to start over. Forgive and move on. Try to be a better person.”

   He was right all those months ago. Eliza deserved better. She deserved a man who would dote upon her constantly, shower her with kisses, and never break faith with her. In a strange twist of fate, she had chosen  _ him _ , flawed as he was. For both of their sakes, he will not let her down again. He would be the man she deserved. The one who would dote upon her constantly. The one who would shower her with kisses. The one who would never break faith with her. The one who would help her raise their children into fine adults. Her lover until death separated them.

   “I was thinking that we could move uptown,” he suggested. “Sell our old house and live somewhere close to your father. I applied for a job at  _ A.T Stewart and Co.,  _ and hopefully, I will get it. I might work at a newspaper company too under a pseudonym to protect my identity.” 

   “That sounds like a good idea,” she nodded. “But you should probably stay out of the political sphere.”

    “Of course,” he reassured. He rubbed his hands together nervously, which did nothing to dispel the sweat forming. “This could be a start over for us. A fresh slate to try again. That is, if you would have me.”

   Eliza took his right hand and threaded her cool fingers through it. “I think I’d like that very much.” 

   She gave him a smile as radiant as the sun. At that moment, Alex knew that everything would be alright.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:  
> 1) Thank you for reading my fanfic! I appreciate every comment, bookmark, and kudos, and it motivates me to keep writing and finish this story (unlike so many other stories sitting in my notebook abandoned) I can't believe we're nearly done. Yay!!!  
> 2) In case you were wondering what I'll be doing next once this is done, I might take a break, with school heating up before writing some stories with some original characters and I'll post it on Wattpad. You can follow me @PurpleLoosestrife, and read some stuff I have there but beware, I published those stories about a year ago when my writing ability was the equivalent of poop. You are still welcome to read it though.  
> 3) Shoutouts goes to Sarvnaz and Cassidy for being such awesome editors! They bring my story from a 5 to a 12. I love you 3000! (Also I want to read your stuff guys *gives puppy eyes* please?)  
> 4) I have posted questions at the bottom of each endnote as an open-ended question for you to debate it out. I'd love to hear your opinion, so go back to the previous chapters to answer in the comments section.  
> 5) To help out this fanfic, share it with a friend! An enemy! A stranger! Let's get this story to either 100 kudos or 1000 hits. Which do you think will happen first?
> 
> The question of the day: How do you think the story will end? There are no wrong answers, only theories. Debate it out! Until next time!


	6. Only a Matter of Time

   Alex rapped his knuckles against the doors and threw his left arm over his head to shelter himself from the pouring rain. He briefly considered setting down the bottle of whiskey to use his other arm too, but decided against it when he saw the layers of grim that coated the back alley. 

   After soaking up precipitation for a minute, the door opened. Alex moved to rush inside but Hercules barred his entrance.

   “You’re wet.”

   Alex refrained from rolling his eyes. “I’ve noticed.”

   Hercules grabbed a towel from a stack and tossed it on the ground. ”Okay, you can come in now.”

   Alex stepped in and shed his jacket. “You know, you could always let me through the front door. This secrecy is highly unnecessary.”

   Hercules tossed him a set of fresh clothing.  “Well, we can’t be too careful.” 

   He opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. Hercules was one of the only people left who had not cut him from their lives, and he knew by being seen next to Hercules, he could endanger his business. It was him that deserved the hate. He had committed adultery with a man, obliterating his morals in the process. For Hercules, being associated with a man like Alex could turn away customers. 

   “I brought you whiskey,” Alex said, passing him the bottle.

   Hercules broke into a grin. “Alright, go get changed.”

   As Alex slipped into his new clothes in the change room, he heard him pull out the whiskey glasses and sing off-key.

_    Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. _

_    Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. _

   Alex gathered his wet clothes and stepped out of the change room.

   “What are you, a sailor?” he teased.

   “No, I’m a tailor!” He laughed at his own rhyme. He yanked the cork out of the bottle and poured two glasses half-full. 

   “Cheers,” Alex said, and they downed their drinks.

   “So,” Hercules began. “I heard from several anonymous sources that the reason Jefferson won was because of  _ Aritos’s _ article promoting him over Burr.”

   “And why would a bunch of Congressmen listen to an anonymous writer?”

   “Because they believed it was you.” 

   “Oh really? They would actually listen to me?” 

   “Just because you’re…..” He saw Hercules struggle to say the word.

   “A sodomite.” He saw him flinch at the word.

   “Just because you’re one doesn’t negate all the work you’ve done for America.” He raised an eyebrow. “So did you do it?”

   “I am not saying I did,” Alex answered. “But I am not denying it either.”

   Hercules let out a disapproving grunt. “You promised you would stay out of politics!”

   “They were not supposed to know it was me!” he complained.

   “You should have known this was going to happen. Your style of writing is distinct that readers can tell it is you from the first paragraph alone!” He shook his head. “Now Burr’s out for you blood.”

   “Come on now,” Alex reasoned. “Aaron’s not like that. He hates confrontation.”

   “People change.”

   “Well, I am not interested in listening to the fruitless gossip of the grapevine.” Alex poured himself another glass and took a sip.

   “Did you know that Edward Livingston’s brother-in-law, Ernest, has a venereal infection?”

   “Really?”

   “Oh, now you’re interested.”

   “Fine,” Alex conceded. “What else have you heard?”

   “Jefferson sleeps with one of his slaves.”

   “That is not particularly surprising,” he commented.

   “Baron von Steuben is still living the life of a bachelor, which sounds quite nice. James Reynolds was arrested for something, either for improper speculation or theft, I forgot. There’s a good chance James Monroe is going to spring him free, so don’t get  all excited just yet. The Laurens clan is finally holding a funeral for Henry Laurens - about time; the body probably rotted away by now. Robert Troup was seen at a -”

   “Do you think John will be there?”

   “Huh?”

   “Henry Laurens passed away in February, right? Why else would they wait this long?” It was meant as a passing speculation, but thinking of John sent waves of guilt rolling down his spine. Eliza had been more loving and supporting than he deserved. He loved her; he really did. That was an unchanging fact carved into stone, but the forbidden fruit of possibility dangled in front of him. There was a chance, a slim chance, that he could see John again. John, who he thought he would never see again.  _ John.  _

   Hercules shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, there could be other relatives that live overseas. Besides, why are you so interested?” The rosy glow in his cheeks dimmed. “You plan on meeting him there, don’t you?”

   He could. He could go to the funeral, and no one could stop him. He could imagine them meeting after years of separation. He would find John awkwardly hanging on the outskirts of the gossiping cliques existing within the clan, avoiding having conversations with anyone. He would appear just within his line of sight. Alex would give him a small and perhaps flirtatious smile and walk away. Once secluded behind a building or shrouded in the darkness of an alley, he would turn around. There he would be, smiling and running towards Alex. They would embrace and take in the moment. After all their trials, their reward would be a timely reunion. It would a well-crafted and much deserved ending to their story. 

   Or would he find a wife in John’s arms, smiling adoringly at him? Would John reciprocate her affections? When John saw him, would he be delighted? Would he tell Alex that whatever they had was over, and it was time for him to move one?

   Maybe he should. He already had a lovely and loving wife of his own, and six bright children. An additional lover was not necessary to his life, or to anyone’s. If he could not move on, he should at least let John. 

   Two men meet and fall in love. Their love is forbidden by society. They are exposed and punished for it. They never see each other again.

   Perhaps this was how the story was meant to be told. 

   But would it really hurt to see John one more time?

   “Hercules, relax,” he reassured. “You are most likely right. They probably did not invited him.” 

   He eyed him suspiciously. “Are you saying that to convince me or yourself?”

   Truthfully, Alex did not know.

* * *

 

   The weather wasn’t  _ that _ bad.

   The day had actually started off nicely. The sun rose against the backdrop of a vibrant red and orange sky. Dark gray storm clouds moved in, choking out the colour of the sky and reminding him of London’s perpetual gloomy state. Rain started drizzling, prompting every passenger nut John to move below deck to seek refuge from the rain. He couldn’t care less. He had faced far worse weather in London and during the tears he fought in the freezing cold and blistering heat. He’d rather be soaked than be trapped with strangers in a crowded room possibly filled with infection. Plus, the rain doubled as a shower. He didn’t need to attend Switzerland’s prestigious medical school to know that going weeks without showering was highly unsanitary.

   The sole dry item on John’s body was the letter he received from his aunt Catherine over a month ago stating that his father had passed away. One of the biggest prescences in his life, if not the biggest, gone just like that. Since receiving the news, he hadn’t shed a single tear. He couldn’t decide if he was still in shock or he truly didn’t love his father enough to miss him. Did that make him a bad son? Maybe he lost the ability to cry after all those years his father told him that boys shouldn’t cry. Should he try crying at the funeral to show that he, despite his resentment for his father, loved him too? No, his father wouldn’t have wanted that. 

   His family certainly wasn’t joking when they told him that the deceased never really left him; he could almost hear his father’s chilling voice taking up residence in his brain.

   He didn’t even know why anyone bothered inviting him to the funeral. He was practically disowned from the clan. He wasn’t expecting his father to leave him money or property in the will, tradition be damned. However, it was a good excuse to leave the dreary streets of London and go home. Honestly, he didn’t even know why he bothered waiting that long. There were times he contemplated disobeying his father. It wasn’t like Martha was tying him down and forcing him to stay. He could have moved back to Switzerland to enter medical school. He could have joined Lafayette in France and live out his days there. He could have moved back to America and live somewhere far away from his father. There was so many things he could have done.

   But he didn’t.

   Because what if he was too old to start anew? What if his friends rejected him for being attracted to men? What if the lazy afternoons spent in Hercules’ shop were a thing of the past, and the cherished moments spent with Alex were no more? What if he moved on, coming to his senses and realizing that Eliza was better for him all along? What if there was nothing and no one waiting for him in America?

The captain of the ship bumped into him as he ran on, derailing his train of thoughts.

   “Oi, get yourself below deck! Heavy storms are approaching!” he called.

   “They’re already here,” John pointed out.

   A clap of thunder followed his statement. Storm clouds released an open fire of precipitation, nailing every square centimetre of the deck. Deciding that the risk of contracting a disease outweighed being pelted with bullets of rain, he ran for the door. As the waves battered the boat relentlessly, it caused the boat to sway and tilt. In his haste to reach haven, he slipped on the drenched hardwood floor. To add insult to injury, the ocean vomited a gush of sea water on the deck, including his sodden body.

_    You’re not going to die here. Not so close to land. Not like this.  _

   But the universe had other plans.

   As a surge of water, as tall and big as his fears and insecurities, came crashing down on the ship, he began to think that Alex may have been right when he said goodbye for the last time.

* * *

 

_    God, it’s hot. _

   The glass of whiskey sweated beads of condensation under the South Carolinian sun. Being confined under formal wear and a scratchy wig Alex had not worn in years added to his discomfort. If that was not enough, he was at Henry Lauren’s funeral, observing his relatives from the outskirts of the crowd. There was not much to observe from his position, so if was going to gather intelligence, he had to plunge himself straight into enemy territory.

   Well, he was already here. If he was going to get caught by the Laurens clan, he did not want to go home without a clue. Occasionally muttering “Sorry” or Excuse me”, he weaved his way through the mass of people. He thought he was tall until he saw John’s relatives. He had to stand near the front and centre of the pack to see John’s immediate family hundling around the coffin. John was not among them. Concealing his disappointment, he resolved to take another look just to make sure until he was accosted by one of the attendees.

   “Baron?”

   He continued to steer him away from the crowd until they were in the safety of the outskirts.

   “Does Eliza know you are here?” Baron asked.

   The familiar crushing guilt settled around his chest. “She thinks I am on a business trip.”

   “I am not in a place to judge your romantic preferences,” he said. “When it comes to that, you and I are not so different. But here is where we differ: I am not married. You have a wife.”

   “I know what I am doing is morally wrong, but I just have to know,” he pleaded. “I do not plan to continue my affair with John.”

   Baron raised his eyebrow. “Then why did you not tell your wife?”

   “If she knew, she might not have let me go.”

   “Perhaps she is right.” 

   Alex grabbed his shoulders. “Baron, please. Tell me, do you know where he is?”

   “No.”

   “Baron,  _ please _ .”

   Baron let out a sigh of frustration and removed Alex’s arms off his body. “I actually do not know. He was invited, but his boat never arrived. Or he never boarded the boat in the first place. At this point, he could be anywhere. No one in his family has contacted him until his aunt Catherine wrote to him about a month or two ago. Don’t waste your time looking for him. He could be dead for all we know.”

   “Then I will wait for him to come,” Alex stated definitely.

   He gave Alex a look of pity and disappointment. “Then you’re going to be waiting for a lifetime.”

 

* * *

   For years, Alex waited. He waited as his eldest son, Philip lay dying in his arms, slain in a duel against George Eacker. He waited as a violent fever claimed Peggy’s life. He waited as two more children were joined to his family, adding joy to his family after a period of despair. Alex held on to his faith like his children clung on to their favourite toys. Unless someone brought him John’s body, he refused to believe he was dead. 

   His stubborn denial was not the only thing keeping him from drowning in misery; Eliza’s unrestricted love kept him afloat. She most likely assumed work-related troubles were bothering him, but never forced him to speak, knowing that he would tell her when he was ready. Alongside him, she continued to raise their children with her signature firmness and kindness. He was perfectly content in his role as a husband and father but he was not satisfied. His inability to receive closure kept him awake at night, fueling his insomnia. He tried asking around, seeing if anyone knew about his whereabouts. No one did. It was like the moment he had boarded the boat for England, his presence had been wiped off the map. Letters to John’s wife Martha had gone unanswered, and writing to the Laurens was definitely not an option. He contemplated going to England to search for John, but Eliza and his children needed him to stay, and when John came back, he had to be here to meet him. 

   John was going to come back. He was going to see him again.

   It was only a matter of time.

* * *

 

July 11, 1804

   Although the sun had barely risen the horizon, it was bright enough to see that Nathaniel Pendleton, his second for the duel, was anxious. Every time the boat was struck by an unruly wave of the Hudson River, his left hand shot out to grasp the side of the boat and his right hand hung on to the briefcase that contained the guns as if he were afraid it might accidentally go off, ending the duel before it started. 

   “Nathaniel, relax,” Alex soothed.

   “I’m not nervous,” he insisted. “Aren’t you?”

   “If everything goes right, I will be home in time to attend a meeting with Mr. Habersberger at noon.”

   “ _ If _ everything goes right.”

   “I trust that Aaron will not shoot to kill. After all, it is an affair of honour between two gentlemen, and he will not risk tarnishing his reputation.”

   Nathaniel shook his head as if he could not believe him.

   The boat docked on the shores of Weehawken, New Jersey, and Alex tipped the boatman generously. Nathaniel, Dr. Hosack, the doctor who would be present for the duel, and Alex trekked up a grassy hill. In the distance, he could see Aaron staring at him. His cold and aloof demeanor was accentuated in the harsh early morning light. One hand lay on his pistol, ready to shoot on demand.

   “Mr. Burr!” Alex greeted, putting on a polite smile. If he warmed up to him, perhaps the confrontation could be defused.

   “Hamilton.” He did not bother hiding his suspicion.

   “By the rules, Mr. Hamilton gets to draw first position. East or west?” Nathaniel asked.

   “West.” The other four men blinked in surprise.

   “Alright,” Nathaniel said slowly as if he was trying to give Alex time to reconsider his potentially suicidal decision. He nodded to Dr. Hosack, and he took his place well away from the dueling grounds and turned his back to the men.

   Alex took his place ten paces away from Aaron. The sun was higher in the sky now, its rays penetrating his retinas. He hoped that giving Aaron the advantage of clear sight would help establish trust between them, but Alex could not see if his attitude was changing due to the sunlight and the distance. He put on his glasses and immediately felt the heat of Aaron’s furious glare burning into his eyes.

   Nathaniel made his way to Alex and asked, “Is there anything you would like me to tell Van Ness so he can tell Burr?”

   “Tell him that I will not shoot him,” he instructed.

   Nathaniel hesitated for a second before relaying the message. While they conversed, Alex fiddled with his gun. Its weight felt foreign to his touch even though he had wielded weapons deadlier than these. His fingers brushed over the places Philip must have held. He tried not to think about how he was also near the same spot his son died. As much as he would like to see Philip again, he still had his seven other children and Eliza to think about. If he survived the duel, he would go home as quickly as possible, hold them in his arms and be grateful that they were still there will him.

   Nathaniel jogged back to Alex. “Van Ness said that he’d tell Burr, but there are no guarantees that Burr will return the favour.”

   “He does not have to,” Alex replied. “Just wanted to let him know. Nathaniel, if I do not survive, I entrust you to tell my wife about my will and a letter I wrote to her in my desk drawer.”

   “I’m sure everything, well, mostly everything depending on what happens, will turn out to be fine.” Nathaniel lied reassuringly.

   “You do not sound so certain,” Alex pointed out.

   His face flushed with mortification. “Well, uhm...I mean, apparently Burr told Van Ness that he will not stop shooting until either of you two were dead or you apologized, and I mean, that is a pretty extreme statement coming from Burr, but you know, your brother-in-law survived a duel, but he apologized, so..uh... ”

   Alex grinned. “It was a joke. Come on, let’s get this duel over with.”

   Nathaniel made his way towards the centre to stand next to Van Ness. 

   “When I count to ten, you may fire your first shot,” Van Ness announced.

   “One.”

   Alex took a steadying breath. Adrenaline was circulating in his bloodstream, and his fight or flight instincts were prodding him to take action. 

   “Two.”

   Aaron stood in front of him, his expression as frigid as the coldest winter night. His fingers were wrapped around the trigger and he had already had it pointed at his chest. Their eyes locked into each other.

   “Three.”

   Aaron Burr. His first friend. His enemy. Maybe the last face he would ever see. If he threw away his shot, is this how people would remember him? Not as Washington’s aide-de-camp, a Founding Father, the first Treasury Secretary of the United States, the author of many important documents, a husband, a father of eight, a friend, an enemy, an adulterer, a sodomite, but as the victim of a duel? What if this bullet was his legacy?

   “Four.”

   What is a legacy? It is planting seeds in a garden he would never get to see. Whatever happened today, he hoped he would be remembered truthfully, in all his glories and faults. He was glad to be part of the country’s birth, to make a difference and leave his fingerprints and-

   “Five.”

   Rise up. He is running out of time and his time is up. 

   Rise up.

   He straightened his posture, lifted his gun, and aimed it.

   Wise up.

   His finger wrapped around the trigger.

   Eyes up.

   “Six.”

   The sun cast a warm glow over New York City. His city. In one of the many houses, his wife and his children would be rising.

   “Seven!”

   He shifted his gaze back to the dueling grounds, and he saw him.

   John.

   “Eight!”

   He was wearing the same set of clothing he wore on the first day they met: a navy blue coat with yellow lapels, matching pants, and black boots. His eyes sparkled with elation.

   “Nine!”

   His ghostly outline was pale, and he could still see Aaron behind him, but it did not matter. He could not take his eyes off him. A part of him knew that he was approaching the termination of his life, but he was here, and that was all that mattered.      

   “Ten!”

John mimed raising a glass of beer, toasting to him. The end of his fulfilled life and the beginning of a life after. An everlasting freedom. A place where they could finally be together. 

In response, Alex raised his pistol to the sky and threw away his shot.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, we did it.   
> First of all, thank you for making it to the end. I know the wait has been longer than however long Burr waited for anything, but it's done. Through the screen of my laptop, I felt your support. Thank you!  
> Big shout outs to my amazing editors, Sarvnaz and Cassidy, the reason you're reading this fic now. They are beautiful humans that deserve books upon books and love.  
> While this is most likely the end of my fanfic career, I will still be writing. I have an idea for an original, but will be posting in Wattpad. You can find me @PurpleLoosestrife. Come say hi!  
> Let me know what your favourite line/scene/character is! I'd love to know what worked in my fic, and what you enjoyed the most throughout the process. Leave a kudos if you haven't already, and a comment to share your opinions.  
> To end this off, here's a final thought: You have one shot in life. What are you going to do with it?


End file.
